


Daenerys Targaryen and the Horn of Winter

by reyneofcastamere (itsreyningman)



Series: The Wizarding World of Westeros [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21743380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsreyningman/pseuds/reyneofcastamere
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen is known as the girl-who-lived-  the only person to ever survive The Night King- the most feared Wizard in Westeros. Following a fractured childhood, she arrives at Kings Landing Academy of Wizardry and Witchcraft at the age of eleven. When dark magic rises once more will Daenerys be able to stand against it or succumb to it’s evil?
Relationships: Aerys II Targaryen/Rhaella Targaryen, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Joanna Lannister/Tywin Lannister, Jon Arryn/Lysa Tully Arryn
Series: The Wizarding World of Westeros [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567162
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	1. The Girl Who Lived

Catelyn Stark was proud to say that her family was reasonably normal, thank you very much. As normal as it is possible for a wizarding family to be at any rate. 

Her husband, Eddard Stark worked at the ministry in the Department of International Magical Cooperation and they had an eighteen-month-old son, Robb and a three-month-old daughter called Sansa. In her opinion, there were no finer children in the seven kingdoms. They both had a shock of bright red hair, ate anything that was put in front of them, slept through the night and Robb had already shown great promise with magic.

She was also blessed to have a husband who was brave enough to support the war but sensible enough not to launch himself onto the front lines. They had already lost Eddard’s father and brother, both of them were brutally murdered by the Night King hunting Ned’s sister Lyanna who had either been kidnapped or voluntarily joined the White Walkers (the Night King’s followers). When Ned had heard of his father and brother’s deaths he had attempted to join the aurors to avenge them but Catelyn had reminded him that he had two young children and extremely average duelling abilities.

It took an extraordinary Wizard to stand against the Night King. He was the most feared wizard in the seven kingdoms- sadistic, brutal and seemingly no one was able to identify who the horrific masked monster truly was. Hundreds of magical and non-magical people had been horrifically murdered by the psychopath. If they were lucky, he gave them a quick death with the killing curse. If they were unlucky, it would be fiendfyre and they would be roasted alive. The only man the Night King showed any reluctance to kill was Barristan Selmy, the hero of Duskendale and headmaster of King’s Landing Academy. Whispers said that Selmy is the only man that The Night King feared and Catelyn could only hope that it was true, she dreaded the thought of raising her children in such violent and fearful times.

It was a cold and crisp November morning. There was frost on the ground and a distinct chill in the air. Catelyn pottered around the kitchen sending eggs and bacon flying into a sizzling frying pan. Ned was in his usual sombre mood and Catelyn took it as a positive sign that no bad news had arrived overnight. Ned and Catelyn had met during their first year at King’s Landing and whilst she had initially been enthralled by his older (and much cooler) brother Brandon, by fifth-year she had been head over heels in love with the quiet, reserved Ned. Like many young couples during a time of conflict, they had married straight out of school. Rhaegar and Elia, who had been in the year below them, had followed their example and now had three-year-old Rhaenys and six-month-old Aegon. Many had thought that it was scandalous for the Minister’s son to wed and procreate at such a young age but Rhaegar and Elia had been a couple for so long that it had seemed ridiculous to Catelyn to think that they wouldn’t get married. 

At half-past seven, she kissed her husband goodbye and woke Robb and Sansa. After breastfeeding Sansa and scourgifying the kitchen after Robb both ate and bathed in his porridge, she prepared her children for the day’s errands. A trip to the markets in Wintertown and then flooing to Riverrun to visit her father and brother. It was just as she had finally wrapped Robb and Sansa in the necessary five layers each and strapped them into their buggy that the fireplace roared green and her brother-in-law Jon Arryn tumbled out of the fireplace. In Catelyn’s opinion, Lysa, her sister, had married the elderly pureblood in an attempt to one-up her. Jon Arryn was kind, intelligent and considerate but too old to genuinely attract a young girl, barely out of school. 

“Unca Jon!” Robb babbled with joy.

Arryn absentmindedly ruffled Robb and Sansa’s hair before turning to Catelyn with a serious expression on his face. 

“The Night King is dead.” He said seriously, sinking into a chair and gratefully accepting a large mug of steaming hot tea. 

“Dead?” Catelyn said stunned, “But who? And how?” 

Catelyn could scarce believe it. Some of the greatest wizards of the age had been unable to defeat the Night King- Gerold Hightower and Jonothor Darry had both been viciously murdered and they had been elite aurors.

Arryn looked grim, “We still don’t know for certain who he was. What we do know, is that last night he attacked the Red Keep.” 

Catelyn gasped, “The Red Keep? But the Minister and his family!” 

Robb wriggled in the pushchair, trying to make sense of his mother’s reaction. 

“Aerys is dead.” Arryn said starkly, “As are Rhaella, Rhaegar, Elia and Aegon.”

“What about little Daenerys?” The youngest Targaryen was three months younger than Robb and it chilled Catelyn to the bone to imagine something so horrible happening to her own children. 

Arryn gave a confusing half-smile, “Daenerys is alive. How I cannot say, but the evidence suggests that the Night King tried to kill that little girl but somehow couldn’t.”

“You mean after the hundreds of people that that monster killed, he somehow could not kill a little girl?” 

“It certainly seems that way.” Arryn murmured, “I must return to the ministry. With all the chaos, I suspect that Tywin will try to take charge.” He stepped back towards the fire before looking back, regretful, “I’m afraid that I cannot promise that Ned will be home on time at all this month, we’ll need all hands on deck.” Then he smiled wanly and stepped back through the flames. 

Catelyn was baffled. She scooped Robb and Sansa out of their pram, numbly stripping them of excess clothing. 

“Nan!” She called. 

An extremely old and ugly house-elf popped into view beside her. She wore a strip of wolf fur around her torso, enough to cover the bare essentials but not enough to be considered clothes. Nan had been in the Stark family for four generations and was an immutable part of life at Winterfell. 

“Yes, Lady Stark?” Nan croaked.

“Take Master Robb and Miss Sansa into the playroom and ensure that they are occupied.” She directed. 

“Of course, Lady Stark.” With a click, Nan levitated the two children in front of her out of the room. 

The moment that they were out of sight, Catelyn sank down into a chair and allowed the enormity of what had happened to envelop her. The Night King was defeated. The Minister and his family had been murdered in their own home. Aerys and Rhaegar, who had been powerful wizards had been slaughtered, and yet somehow Daenerys Targaryen had survived. Catelyn hoped that wherever the child was, she was being cared for. Like so many witches and wizards would that day, she raised her cold cup of tea to ‘the-girl-who-lived’. Little did Catelyn know that the next morning she would be awoken by a devastated husband, a small bawling bundle and a note that contained a single sentence ‘His name is Jon’.


	2. The Vanishing Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Snow was an unusual boy in many ways.

Jon Snow was an unusual boy in many ways. He was a wizard and although growing up in magical household did normalise it significantly, he was still a rather uncommon wizard. He had displayed accidental magic from an alarmingly early age- turning Lysa Arryn’s hair bright green at the age of three when she had insulted his mother. He was also highly unusual in the fact that he had not the slightest clue who his father was. His uncle had found him abandoned outside his office wrapped in a blanket next to his mother’s body. The prevalent theory was that she had tried to leave the White Walkers and had been killed by the Night King shortly before he met his demise and her body and baby had been left as a sign. Whoever had dumped them had not been particularly careful with baby Jon and he had been dumped on a shard of glass, although the glass had been removed it had left an arrow-shaped scar over his heart. Robb had said that it made him look more interesting but Aunt Catelyn had replied that it was far too cold in Winterfell to go running around with your shirt off so he had might as well keep it a secret. 

He had spent the past ten years living at Winterfell and so much had changed since the day the Night King was defeated. The walls were covered with family photos of four redheaded children and two surly brunettes in various stages of growth. Winterfell was a hive of noise and activity and you could scarcely move without bumping into a Stark child. Four-year-old Rickon was now the baby of the family, Bran was eight, Arya was nine, Sansa was ten and Robb, eleven. Jon was technically still ten but it was so close now to his eleventh birthday that he was basically eleven already. 

It was a beautiful summer morning and Jon staggered downstairs yawning to be greeted by a bleary-eyed Robb and an overly awake Aunt Catelyn who presented him with a large plate of bacon and eggs. 

“Eat them all up.” She said firmly, “I want the lot of of you clearing the grumpkins out of the garden before Aunt Lysa and Robert arrives.” 

Robb slammed his head onto the table, narrowly missing his breakfast. 

Since Jon Arryn had succumbed to dragon pox the previous year, Lysa and Robert Arryn had been over frequent visitors at Winterfell and no-one looked forward to their visits. Robert cried at everything, refused to share toys and was far too emotionally and physically fragile to play with even Rickon who was four years younger than him. 

“But mum!” He moaned, “The grumpkins won’t do anything to Robert. Aunt Lysa’s going overboard again.” 

Aunt Catelyn pursed her lips, silencing her own agreement. “This is your sister’s tenth birthday and you will not ruin it for her by sending your Aunt into a fit of hysterics. We promised Sansa a trip to the zoo and if Lysa’s nerves are overwrought before we even get there that’ll be the whole day ruined. ” 

Robb was just about to argue back when Sansa skipped into the kitchen, her long pink nightie clashing horribly with her bright red hair.   
“Happy Birthday, Sansa!” Aunt Catelyn beamed, wrapping her in a tight hug. 

“Happy Birthday.” Jon smiled.

“Yeh, Hppy Birda.” Robb added through a mouthful of bacon. 

Sansa glanced around the kitchen in anticipation before she noticed a large pile of presents hidden under a striped blue and red blanket. She ripped the blanket off revealing a multi-coloured blitz of wrapping paper. Birthdays in the Stark household were well celebrated and Jon could look forward to his own large stack the following month (minus presents from Lysa Arryn who refused to buy presents for Jon). 

“Can I open them now?” Sansa gasped. “When are we going to the zoo?”

“Wait a little while longer.” Aunt Catelyn replied, “Arya, Bran and Rickon are yet to emerge and I’m still hoping that your father will be home before Lysa arrives. Breakfast and presents before the zoo though.” She turned to glance at the large multi-handed clock that hung above the fireplace. A dozen delicate golden hands, each with a carefully engraved name were pointed at various places around the clock face. Half of them were pointed at home but Uncle Ned and Uncle Benjen’s were pointed at work. Stannis and Renly Baratheon also had hands on the clock. Their older brother Robert had been Uncle Ned’s best friend. He had been tortured to death by a group of White Walkers searching for the Night King. Ned and Catelyn had unofficially adopted his younger brothers and although they lived in Stannis’ flat in King’s Landing, they were still very much part of the family. Stannis worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Magical Patents office, which, in Jon’s opinion, was the most boring job it was possible to have. Renly was beginning his fourth year at King’s Landing and played as a seeker for his house team. 

With a small chime, Uncle Ned’s hand swung from work, to travel and then home. A clearly exhausted Ned Stark staggered into the kitchen to be immediately jumped upon by Sansa. With the hidden strength of every father who dare not risk dropping their own child, he managed to lift her high into the air and embrace her. 

“Happy Birthday, Princess.” Ned murmured into Sansa’s hair. He quickly deposited her back into a chair before sinking gratefully into his own chair in front of a large mug of coffee and an enormous Full English breakfast. Ned barely managed to eat two mouthfuls before a miniature whirlwind by the name of Arya landed, swiftly followed by Bran and Rickon. With the entire family assembled, Sansa finally dug into her pile of presents. Brand new dress robes from Ned and Catelyn, the new Martyn Mudd the Muggle book from Robb, a sneakoscope from Arya, chocolate from Bran and Rickon and a junior book of potions from Jon. Sansa had embraced everyone in turn and thanked Arya for not boobytrapping her gift. As Sansa tried on her new dress robes proclaiming that they were ‘simply perfect’, Jon inhaled his third helping of scrambled eggs and foolishly predicted that it was going to be a brilliant day. 

Aunt Lysa and cousin Robert had arrived an hour late, to make matters worse, she had then insisted that they would have to travel to the zoo the muggle way because her poor little ‘Sweetrobin’ couldn’t possibly be exposed to the dangers of magical transportation. The only blessing was that she hadn’t noticed the grumpkins who had begun to creep back into the garden. They were all crammed into Aunt Lysa’s enormous, armour-plated land rover which had dark tinted windows. Jon felt like he was trapped in an air-conditioned box without even the opportunity to observe the world as it passed him by. 

“Of course this is so much safer,” Aunt Lysa simpered to anyone who would listen, “Even with those awful motorbikes roaring past at seventy miles an hour.” 

“I had a dream once about a motorbike.” Jon blurted, “It was flying.”

Aunt Lysa slammed her foot on the break, sending them jolting forwards and causing an enraged chorus of car horns behind them. 

“Motorbikes. Do not fly.” She said shrilly, “They’re not allowed to. It’s criminal behaviour.” 

“I know.” Jon said, stunned, “It was a dream.”

Aunt Catelyn gave Jon a sharp look to keep his head down. He was silent the entire rest of the way to the zoo ignoring Arya and Robb’s jokes, Robert’s whining and Bran’s attempts to name a magical creature for every letter of the alphabet. 

By the time they arrived at Riverrun Zoo breakfast seemed a long time ago so Uncle Ned bought ice creams. Lysa sniffed indignantly at Ned’s attempts to offer Robert one and instead produced a tub of vanilla ice cream from inside a freezer bag and spoon-fed her eight-year-old son.

“It’s all-natural yummy mummy’s milk, isn’t it my Sweetrobin.” Lysa cooed.

Jon was suddenly very glad that he had ordered a chocolate ice cream so that the similarity between Robert’s icecream and his own was lessened. Aunt Catelyn glared at the obviously gobsmacked Robb and Arya and actually placed a hand over Rickon’s mouth to stop him from blurting anything tactless. 

They spent the morning observing the animals that Sansa thought were cute- monkeys, meerkats and red pandas. After lunch they moved onto magical creatures, passing through a permanently out of order portapotty to reach the wizards and witches only animals. Jon trudged behind his family as they saw the Pygmy Puffs and Nifflers. Arya had to be explicitly told that she was not allowed a pet niffler or a pet porlock and Rickon had to be forcibly dragged away from the crup petting area after he tried to smuggle one out. When they reached the ministry rated XXXX and XXXXX creatures Aunt Lysa began fussing again and refused to allow Robert to go any further. For once, Aunt Catelyn seemed to agree that some of the creatures were too scary for younger children and dragged a reluctant Bran and a furious Arya and Rickon to pet some kneazles. Sansa seemed to only want to continue because it was her birthday and she held Uncle Ned’s hand tightly as they crept past demiguises, who turned invisible every time someone tapped on the glass, graphorns who charged at the trees in their enclosure and Runespoors who seemed to do nothing but daydream. 

At the very end of the 'dangerous creatures' area, there was a large enclosure strewn with paper lanterns and a large sign outside it which proclaimed that Riverrun Zoo proudly presented Westeros’ only publicly displayed dragon. They rushed over. Standing in the middle of a rocky enclosure was a small scarlet dragon with a fringe of golden spikes and bulging eyes. It was about the size of a labrador and looked as though it wanted to be anywhere else. 

“Dad, it’s tiny!” Robb said, “I thought that Dragons were enormous.” 

“They wouldn’t be able to keep an enormous one in a zoo though would they?” Sansa said, “It’s probably just a baby. I wonder where his mum and dad are?” 

Jon was struck with a feeling of great empathy with the small scarlet creature. He stared sympathetically at it. Failing to notice when Robb, Sansa and Ned moved away to visit the golden snidget exhibition. 

“He’s beautiful isn’t he.” 

He jerked around to see a small girl with long silver plaits gazing adoringly at the dragon. She was wearing a baggy shapeless dress that at some point in time had perhaps been pink and a ratty beige cardigan.  
Jon smiled at her, “He seems very young to be apart from his parents, do you think he remembers them?”

She gestured at a small sign which said raised from an egg in captivity. 

“Oh,” He said feeling stupid. 

“It means that he’s never been free.” The girl said wistfully, “He’s only ever been able to fly around that enclosure.” 

They stood next to each other, both gazing sorrowfully at the dragon. Jon was about to ask the girl her name when a loud shrill voice saved him the trouble. 

“Dany!” The girl flinched and turned sharply around just as a hand bearing a large red and black ring smacked into her face, drawing blood. 

“Where have you been you little slut?” The man had long greasy silver hair and a pale, pointed face. He was dressed in shabby robes that were probably expensive once upon a time. 

“I told you to remain with Darry near the occamy. Now look what you’ve done, you’ve woken the dragon.” He spat. 

Jon was confused and angry. Why was this man being so awful and what did he mean woken the dragon? It was already awake although it did seem to be watching them with growing interest. The man began violently shaking Dany and Jon leapt into action. 

“Stop it!” Jon yelled springing towards the man, “You’re hurting her.” 

He was viciously backhanded across the face and smacked the back of his head against the glass. He felt his lip bleeding. The man had thrown Dany to the floor as well and was kicking her over and over again. Jon felt a hot surge of rage rush through him and it felt as though the air was burning around him. There was a shriek of terror. 

“Dragon!” A woman screamed.

Jon turned around to see the little dragon soaring out of his enclosure through the empty gap where the glass used to be. The dragon flapped his wings and fired a little mushroom of flame. The man shrieked and rolled onto the floor desperately trying to put himself out. Jon froze in horror as Dany’s cardigan caught alight before flinging himself at her, batting at the flames with his hands. 

Quickly, the cardigan was put out and several burly wizards recaptured the dragon who had been attempting to eat a Nogtail. The man had been treated for burns to his hands and face by a mediwizard and had promptly dragged Dany away. Dany waved back at Jon with a curious expression on her face. 

When Uncle Ned, Robb and Sansa found him, Jon was being lectured by someone from the improper magic office on the consequences of underage magic once he started Hogwarts. Uncle Ned refused to hear what had happened until they had sung Happy Birthday to Sansa at the Zoo restaurant, driven home and seen off Aunt Lysa and Robert. When Jon told them his account of what had happened, Robb and Arya cheered, Sansa praised him for standing up for Dany, Bran had asked a million and one questions about the dragon, Rickon had made dragon noises for the rest of the evening and Aunt Catelyn had told him that it was a jolly good thing that the man hadn’t been more badly hurt. Uncle Ned had taken his hands with a concerned look on his face and remarked that it was a miracle that he wasn’t burned. 

“It was the adrenaline I suppose.” Jon shrugged, “It wasn’t on fire for very long either.” 

Long after the children had gone to bed that night, Ned and Catelyn sat in the kitchen and debated the event. 

“Perhaps he accidentally cast a flame freezing charm?” Catelyn ventured, “It wouldn’t be the first time an underage wizard has used accidental magic to protect themselves.” 

Ned sighed, “Maybe. It’s times like this that I wish that Lyanna had left even a scrap more information. Even now I sometimes feel like we don’t know that boy.” 

Catelyn poured him a large glass of firewhiskey, “I could say the same about Arya some days and I know exactly where she came from.”


	3. Letters from No-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for Viserys.

Two hundred miles away from the comforting chaos of Winterfell, Daenerys Targaryen shivered inside her cramped cupboard. She had been locked in her cupboard day and night for the past month only being allowed out to go to the toilet and eat the scraps that her brother allowed. Dany could not remember a life that did not involve Viserys hitting her, starving her and locking her up. The rest of her family had been brutally murdered by the Night King when she was barely eighteen months old, Viserys had been spared because he had been unofficially disowned by the family three months earlier when he had proven beyond any shadow of a doubt to be a squib. He had instead been sent to the Citadel Preparatory School in Oldtown to be educated in the muggle world. Their parent’s death had forced Viserys to drop out as the funds dried up and he had returned to Summerhall, a decrepit ruin that had been the ancient Targaryen summer home. Darry, their house-elf, had done his best to raise and educate them but the elderly elf was unable to stop Viserys from inflicting his anger and resentment on to Dany. 

When she was younger Dany had dreamed of some magical elderly relative arriving to sweep her away from Viserys and into the Wizarding world. On the rare occasions that Viserys allowed her to leave the house, she would be enthusiastically greeted by an assortment of witches and wizards. A large bald man had once bowed to her in a shop and whispered in her ear that it was a pleasure to meet her. She had once asked Viserys about it but he had told her to shut up and fetch him a drink. 

Dany spent as much time as she could hidden in the kitchen with Darry, helping him cook or reading quietly in the corner. Living with Viserys quickly taught you to keep your head down and avoid his wrath. He still had nasty burns on his hands and face and one of her current jobs was applying burn paste. Viserys had sneered at her protestations that it hadn’t been her who had vanished the glass and set a dragon on him. 

“You’re a Targaryen, the blood of the Dragon. Who else could it have been?” 

The week before her birthday Dany was sat on the floor scrubbing her own blood out of the floorboards when she heard the tell-tale sound of the post landing on the doormat. 

“Get the mail, whore.” Viserys snapped, kicking her in the flank for good measure. 

Rubbing her latest injury, Dany staggered into the hallway which was festooned with moth-eaten tapestries of scowling silver-haired figures. On the mat was a large pile of envelopes- overdue bills, wine club subscriptions, an advertisement for a club called Chataya’s which had a scantily clad lady on the front cover and finally a letter for Dany. 

Dany picked it up and stared at it- could it be a birthday card? She’d never had one before and her birthday wasn’t for another week but why else would anyone be writing to her. She turned it over and saw the familiar black and red sigil of House Targaryen but underneath it, instead of ‘Fire and Blood’ was written Dōrī renigon se mazverdagon sōpagon iā ēdrure zaldrīzes. 

On the front was written:

Miss Daenerys Targaryen 

The Largest Kitchen Cupboard

Summerhall Ruins 

Summerhall

Stormlands

“Dany, what’s taking so long? Bring me those bloody letters.” 

Daenerys stumbled back into the living room staring at her letter. Numbly, she handed Viserys the rest. 

“Dany, what’s that?” Viserys said sharply, “Give it here.”

She clutched it to her chest. “But it’s addressed to me. It’s my letter.” 

“Who’d bother writing to you?” Viserys snapped. Then he noticed the crest on the back and ripped it out of her hands. He gawped at it for a moment, in disbelief. Then he stormed into the kitchen and threw the letter onto the fire. Dany tried launching herself into the flames to grab it back but Viserys caught her by the hair and forced her to watch as her letter was reduced to cinders. 

He forced her into her cupboard and locked the door. She pressed her ear to the keyhole and listened as he ranted and raved at Darry. 

“How could they possibly know where she sleeps? They’ve been spying on us, haven’t they? 

“No Master Viserys.” Darry protested, “Tis the ancient magic set out by Visenya herself to send letters to all eligible young witches and wizards.” 

Viserys threw something at Darry’s head. 

“Don’t talk to me about magic. I have sworn every day for the past ten years that there was going to be no more magic in this family. I thought that I had stamped it out of her. If I cannot be a true dragon then that little halfwit slut certainly can’t.” 

That night when he finally let her out of her cupboard, Viserys did something unexpected. He smiled at her. It was a pained smile that did not meet his eyes but it was nonetheless a smile.

“Dany, I think it’s time that you moved out of the cupboard.”

Dany was overjoyed and then extremely suspicious. 

“Why?” She asked.

“You’re getting very grown up now Dany. I think that it’s time that you moved into the bedroom next to mine.”

So that I can keep an eye on you was left unsaid. 

“Before we move your things upstairs though Dany, you need to promise me something.”

“What?” 

“If there are any more letters addressed to, you leave them be. They’ve been sent to you by mistake.” 

Dany bit her lip. She’d always wanted to move out of her cupboard. It was cramped and drafty and full of spiders but was it worth giving up her letters for a bedroom. Viserys grabbed her arm and squeezed it painfully.

“Well?” He asked menacingly.

“I promise.” She said reluctantly. 

Dany looked around her new room in wonder. There was an actual bed with curtains and shelves and shelves of old books and a wardrobe full of dusty dress robes that had belonged to her late sister-in-law Elia. She spent the next hour trying on all of the gorgeous and clearly very expensive dress robes. She had just tried on a blue floaty number when the wallpaper opened at Viserys stepped into her room. 

“That dress makes you look like a harlot.” He commented but his eyes went to places that did not make Dany feel at all comfortable. 

“I was just trying it on.” She mumbled and vowed never to do so again. 

“Pretty.” Viserys murmured, running his hand down her cheek. Thankfully, it soon ended and he left back through the wallpaper, reminding her that he was just next door if she needed him.  
With a pop, Darry entered the room and silently sat against the door and gestured at Dany to be quiet and go to sleep. Smiling gratefully at the elf, she clambered into the bed and sank into the unfamiliar comfort of pillows. 

Over the next few days, it became apparent that whoever was sending the letters had not been informed by Viserys that they had been sent to her by mistake because the letters kept coming in increasingly inventive ways. Inside the eggs, down the chimney, up the toilet and through every nook and cranny that they could find. What was more extraordinary was that the owls who delivered them seemed to be waiting around for a reply and pooing all over the walls and windows. 

On the day before her birthday, a continuous stream of Owls flew through the bathroom window and dropped no less than three hundred letters on Viserys’s head. Viserys had had enough. Before she could even think to grab a letter, he dragged her by the hair out of the front door and threw her into the back of his extremely battered Mott 8. He drove erratically for hours and Dany lost track of where he was driving. She tried to ask why they had left Darry behind or why hadn't they used house-elf magic to escape but all that had got her was a black eye. Viserys muttered "Have to shake them off" for hours on end. Finally, they reached a storm-battered coastline and they staggered from the car to a small battered dingy. In the distance was a rocky island with a black, dragon-shaped castle perched in the centre. 

“Start rowing,” Viserys ordered, pulling up the anchor. 

Dany battled against the icy sea that lashed against the sides of the boat and the rain which lashed down in buckets and chilled her to the bone. Viserys sat in the front of the boat and scowled. After what felt like forever, they finally arrived on the gravelly beach. Legs trembling, Dany followed Viserys up a steep embankment to an enormous stone tower shaped like a dragon that seemed blissfully unaware of the austereness of its surroundings. Dany couldn’t help but notice that the door to the tower was locked with a heavy metal chain and padlock.

“This will have to do.” Viserys muttered, “They’ll have locked the main keep more securely.”  
Then he produced a pair of bolt cutters from his pocket, cut through the chain and threw open the door. 

The tower was dusty, drafty and Dany nearly tripped multiple times on the narrow, winding staircase but finally, they reached a long-forgotten set of chambers that were littered with bird poo and small animal bones. There was a single bed tucked in the corner and Dany’s heart sank into her toes at the thought of sharing the bed with her brother. Fortunately, the cold and cramped quarters seemed to have undermined Viserys’ lecherous streak and he threw her a blanket and pointed at the floor. 

“You’ll sleep there tonight. We’ll be leaving for Pentos in the morning.” 

With that, he flung himself underneath a mouldy blanket and began to snore. 

Dany shivered underneath her ragged blanket and gazed out of the window. The stars were shining brightly, the ice dragon clearly visible against the pitch-black sky. She gazed at the rider’s eye and followed it to the outer stars of the dragon’s tail. It was nearly midnight, she thought. She wished that she had a watch to be able to count down to her birthday. She heard a creak outside of the tower. She hoped that the tower wasn’t about to collapse. Then she heard footsteps pounding against the narrow spiral staircase. There was something in the tower. Maybe she should wake Viserys up? She counted the footsteps as they smashed ever closer. Ten steps to go, seven steps, five, four, three, two, one…

There was an almighty crash and the door to the chamber flew off its hinges as a towering figure entered the room.


	4. The Spider's Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things that go hodor in the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Contains Viserys.

“Hodor!” bellowed the figure in the doorway. Viserys bolted upright in bed, sending up a cloud of dust from the mattress.

“Who dares disturb the dragon?!” He shrieked. 

Dany huddled on the floor staring in amazement at the figure who had entered the room. He was easily seven feet tall with a matted salt and pepper beard and an extraordinary overcoat which appeared to be made of the pelts of various small mammals stitched haphazardly together. His watery blue eyes spotted Dany and he beamed at her. 

“Hodor.” The giant said happily. He settled himself on the floor next to Daenerys and stared contentedly at her. 

“I demand that you leave at once, you great brute,” Viserys shouted. 

“Oh dear, Hodor. Did you knock too hard again?” A simpering voice uttered. 

Dany turned to see a plump, bald figure, dressed in purple silk robes, embellished with gold trim around the sleeves and ankles, glide into the room. 

“You.” Viserys spat. Dany noticed that his face had turned the colour of day-old porridge. 

“Me.” The man said replied, “It has simply been far too long Viserys. I was beginning to wonder if you intended to allow Daenerys to attend school at all.” His tone had become more and more pointed. “But that doesn’t matter now of course.” He turned to Daenerys and presented her with an ornately decorated cake which proclaimed ‘Happy Birthday Daenerys’ in red icing. 

She stared at it in wonder. She’d never had a birthday cake before. She looked up at the strange men and meant to say thank you but the words somehow got lost on their way to her mouth and what she said instead was “Who are you?”

The bald man tittered. The giant didn’t seem to have understood the question. 

“Where are my manners,” The bald man said, “My name is Varys. Charms teacher and head of Visenya house at King’s Landing Academy of Wizardry and Witchcraft. And this,” He gestured flamboyantly at the giant, “is Hodor, he’s our groundskeeper.”

Hodor hodored again and bowed his head to her.  
“Now then,” Varys said, “Serious discussions require refreshment.”  
He drew his wand from the inside of his robes (ignoring Viserys’ flinch), conjured a brazier and lit a fire. He soon had a hastily conjured kettle whistling and poured all three of them a welcome cup of tea. Dany clutched her mug and huddled next to the fire, as Varys produced four ramekins from inside his robes, each containing a creme brulee. With a wave of his wand, he lightly toasted the top of the desserts, with another wave he conjured four teaspoons. Dany gratefully accepted a creme brulee, devouring the sweet treat in under a minute. When she had finished, it occurred to her how hungry she truly was and wished that she had not eaten it so quickly, or that Varys had also brought some sausages. 

Viserys stared at his suspiciously, “The dragon will not touch anything you give me.” 

Varys rolled his eyes, “A dragon is carnivorous, you are merely deranged and twisted.”

He passed the spare dessert to Daenerys. The second creme brulee was as appreciated as the first and she wondered if it would be awfully cheeky to ask the bald wizard for third. 

“So,” Varys simpered when she had finished licking the leftovers out of her fourth helping, “It has been many years since I have seen you Daenerys Targaryen.” 

Dany peered curiously at him. She was certain that she would remember such an eccentric figure. “I’m sorry sir,” she said, “But I don’t remember..” 

“You were a baby,” He interrupted, waving her apology away, “But I will never forget the day your mother first introduced you to me, nor the awful scene at the Red Keep when I last saw you.” 

“You knew my mother?” Dany replied breathlessly, “What was she like?” 

“Kind-hearted, intelligent and dutiful, it was why she became a healer, although that was before she married your father.” 

“She was a healer?” 

“Yes,” Varys frowned, “Did you not know that?” 

“No, sorry.” She quickly replied.

“Oh, you’re not to blame dear,” Varys replied pointedly looking at Viserys. 

“What else can you tell me?” She asked eagerly,

“She was good friends with Deria Martell and Joanna Lannister, they were all in the same year at King’s Landing Academy, although Rhaella was in Rhaenys’s house rather than Maegor’s” Varys looked contemplatively at her, “I imagine that you will be joining your brother, Rhaegar, in Aegon’s.” 

“Joining...Aegon’s. What do you mean?” 

“Stop this.” Viserys spat, “I forbid you to tell her anymore.”  
Many brave men had shrunk before Varys’ glare of incredulous fury. Viserys was not a brave man and he proceeded to shrink behind Hodor’s enormous frame. 

“Joining King’s Landing Academy, of course,” Varys said, “If you would like.”

“You mean that I have been accepted?” Dany felt joy rush through her. She was magical enough to attend King’s Landing, she could escape Viserys.

That, it seems was the final straw for her brother.

“I FORBID IT! SHE IS NOT GOING.” Viserys bellowed, “I have been quite clear with Selmy.” 

Varys’ lip curled, “Strangely, the deranged ramblings that the headmaster received were utterly ignored. We hoped that your letters were a cry for help rather than a genuine attempt to stop Daenerys from attending King’s Landing.” 

Viserys’ face turned the colour of soured milk and he blathered in incoherent rage. 

“Letters?” Daenerys gasped, “So all those letters weren’t a mistake? They really were for me.” Her heart thumped violently. Of all the cruelty her brother had inflicted on her over the years, somehow, this betrayal, this attempted imprisonment hurt the most, “You wrote to them to try and stop me going?” 

“Of course I did, you stupid little whore. How could I not after the way the wizarding world has treated me? You don’t deserve to have magic! I should have powers. I am the last true dragon. The blood of Aegon Targaryen runs through my veins and still, Mother and Father banished me to the filth of the muggle world.”

He drew a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed like he had been wanting to say this for years.

“Then, just as I had reconciled myself to building a future in the muggle world, you got them blown up by that madman, and I got landed with you. ” 

Dany had gone very white. As soon as she had found her voice she whispered, “What do you mean I got them blown up? You told me that I was too unimportant for the Night King to have bothered to kill me.”

“Unimportant?” Varys asked dangerously, causing Viserys to cower under the bed “You told Daenerys Targaryen, the girl-who-lived that she wasn’t important enough for the Night King to kill? Every child in the wizarding world knows her name, and she doesn’t know her own story.”

“But, what happened?” Dany asked urgently 

Varys paused for a moment, carefully considering the right words. 

“Selmy would probably want to tell you himself but there’s no chance in seven hells that we’re going to Eel Ally tomorrow without you knowing who you are.” 

He sent Viserys a contemptuous look. 

“Well, there’s no time like the present. Hodor, sit down.”

Hodor hodored and then sank onto Viserys’ bed causing it to sag nearly to the floor. 

“There have been stories of a Night King or Night’s King in the far north for centuries, ancient stories of an undefeatable evil. No one south of the neck believed the stories until thirty years ago when someone started looking for followers. Some people, out of power or fear, joined him. We initially thought that he was just another dark wizard but we quickly discovered how wrong our assumptions were. Dark magic, terrible magic so old and evil that we realised that the northern legends were true.”

Dany sat frozen, hanging on every word. 

“The Wizarding World was in turmoil for twenty years, far too many good wizards and witches were killed. Now, your father was Minister for Magic and he had your brother Rhaegar were very much seen as a rallying force for the wizarding world against The Night King. Powerful wizards and descendants of Aegon Targaryen, it’s a mystery to many people why The Night King didn’t try and recruit them. I imagine that their closeness to Barristan Selmy was an issue.” 

Hodor had produced a large pink and blue spotted handkerchief from his pocket and was dabbing the enormous teardrops that had begun to run down his face. 

“I know it’s sad, Hodor.” Varys said comfortingly to the big man before he turned back to Dany, “So, the Night King killed them and then, here’s the curious thing, he tried to kill you. Perhaps he saw you as a threat, perhaps he wanted to make a clean job of it, or just enjoyed killing small children but whatever his reasons he could not kill you. The Night King never left anyone alive once he had decided to kill them- the Baratheons, the Starks, the Hollards, no one except you.”

As Varys spoke, Dany had a vision of a flash of green light and a high cold laugh. It was clearer than any memory she had ever had. 

Varys regarded her thoughtfully. Hodor let out a warhorn-like sneeze and blew his nose on the handkerchief. 

“I was there when we found you in the ruins of the Red Keep. The bodies were strewn everywhere and a small bawling child behind a chair. Tywin Lannister, Eddard Stark and Jon Arryn arguing about what to do with you.”

“Very sentimental.” Viserys spat, creeping out from under the bed, 

Dany jumped, she had almost forgotten that Viserys was there. Her brother seemed to have gotten over his fear of Varys because his face was purple with rage and his fists were clenched. 

“But it does not change the fact that I am not allowing that pious old fool to teach my sister when he would not teach me.” 

“As you have been informed on numerous occasions, Viserys.” Varys replied sardonically, “A distinct lack of magical talent made your attendance at King’s Landing both impractical and unfair. The Headmaster was, in my opinion, exceptionally patient with your demands to be allowed to attend and the allowance you have been provided with for Daenerys’ care has been more than generous. Selmy made sure that you were given enough every year to allow you to better yourself as well as care for your sister. Not that you show any sign of having taken advantage of that generosity.” 

Viserys returned to sulking. Dany, meanwhile, still had plenty of questions. 

“But what happened to The Night King?”

“An excellent question. Some say that he died, I doubt that there was enough human in him for that. Most people believe that he has lost his powers and is biding his time somewhere. What we do know is that whatever happened that night at the Red Keep stopped him.” 

Hodor was beaming at her and Varys’ expression was a mixture of curiosity and pride, but Dany instead of being pleased felt quite sure that there had been a horrible mistake. How could she have defeated the Night King? Hadn’t Viserys told her every day how pathetic and stupid she was? If she had really defeated the greatest threat to the wizarding world, how come Viserys regularly used her as a punching bag? But now was not the time for those kinds of thoughts, she had to make sure that she went to King’s Landing and got away from Viserys. 

“Varys,” She asked politely, “I never actually got to read my letter for school. I don’t suppose…?” 

He smartly handed her a thick envelope this time bearing the words:

Miss Daenerys Targaryen  
The Floor  
Sea Dragon Tower  
Dragonstone

She pulled out the letter and read. 

KINGS LANDING ACADEMY OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY 

HEADMASTER: BARRISTAN SELMY (Knight of Morne, First Class; Chief Warlock; Supreme Mugwump International Confederation of Wizards) 

Dear Miss Targaryen,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at King’s Landing Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. 

Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st. 

Yours sincerely, 

Oleanna Tyrell, 

Deputy Headmistress

Dany’s heart dropped. It was already July 31st, it was too late. Her brother must have known that if they avoided the letters for long enough she wouldn’t be allowed to attend. 

“I’ve missed the deadline.” She whispered.

Varys tittered, “Never fear, the headmaster has been made aware of your unique circumstances. If you would like to attend, Daenerys, arrangements can still be made.” 

Daenerys felt hope surge through her. But Viserys was not going to let her go without at a fight. 

“Haven’t I said that she is not going? She’ll stay at home taking care of the house and that’s final.” He hissed. 

“If she wants to go, no deranged imbecile is going to stop her.” Varys replied coolly, “Her name has been down since she was born and as, unlike you, she has magical talent, she will be attending the finest magical institute in the world. She will be making friends for the first time in her life and be under the care of the greatest wizard Westeros has ever seen.”

“I AM THE DRAGON! I WILL NOT ALLOW THAT COWARD…” Viserys roared. 

But he had finally gone too far. With an expression of immense satisfaction on his face. Varys waved his wand. To Dany’s amazement, there was a loud pop and her brother vanished and there was a small silver lizard in his place. 

Varys sighed, conjured a small cage and scooped up Viserys into it, “Selmy will be less than thrilled about this.”

Dany was awestruck, “When can I learn how to do that?” 

Varys smiled knowingly, “Not until at least sixth year and even then there are normally laws against casting spells on non-magical people.” 

“Normally laws?” Daenerys queried 

“Well, Hodor isn’t going to tell anyone. Do you think that we could keep this between ourselves?” 

Dany nodded eagerly. 

“Excellent.” Varys replied, “Well it’s very late and we had best get some sleep before our big day of shopping tomorrow. I’d best send Selmy an owl before we sleep though.” 

From the inside of his robes, he produced a disgruntled looking owl, a scrap of parchment and an enormous brightly coloured quill. He scribbled a short message and attached it to the owl's leg. 

“Now then, this hovel won’t do at all. Tell me, my dear, have you ever stayed at The Clanking Dragon?”


	5. The Clanking Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys takes her first steps into the wizarding world.

Daenerys awoke early the next morning. Although she knew it was daylight, she kept her eyes screwed tight shut. 

It was all a dream she thought, I am going to open my eyes and I’ll be back in my cupboard. There was a soft knocking sound. 

And there’s Darry waking me up. Her heart sank but she still didn’t open her eyes. It had been such a lovely dream, she had been rescued from Viserys, she was going to school and her brother had been turned into a lizard. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“One minute.” She mumbled. 

She sat up in bed and the silk bed sheets slipped onto the floor. She was sitting in a large bed in a stylishly decorated hotel room which was festooned with frilly pillows. She hurried to the door and opened it to reveal Varys, who was already dressed and carrying a large breakfast tray. 

“Good morning, my dear.” Varys smiled, “Hodor and I have already partaken of Masha’s honeyed cakes but we thought that you might appreciate breakfast in bed before you greet the adoring crowds downstairs.” 

She took the tray from him and placed it on a small table on one corner of the room. 

“Thank you.” She added hastily. 

“Now, a little bird informed me that the rag you are currently wearing is all the clothes you possess, so I took the liberty of asking Masha for some hand me downs from her daughter.”

He handed her a small bundle of clothing. They all looked well-worn but they were clean and decidedly better than her old pink-ish sack. She thanked him again before promising to eat all her breakfast and be changed and downstairs in an hour. 

She devoured the plate of honeyed cakes and fruit and surprised herself by enjoying coffee. She quickly washed and changed into a blue summer dress, leaving her newly clean hair bright shining silver. 

She skipped down the stairs and burst through the door into the main room of the inn. The room went deathly quiet. Thirty or forty pairs of eyes turned in awe to face her. Then there was a cacophony of excitement as seemingly everyone in the inn clamoured to introduce themselves. 

“Kyra Goodbrook, Miss Targaryen, I can’t believe that I’m meeting you at last.”

“So proud, Miss Targaryen, so proud.”

“I can’t believe that I’m shaking your hand.”

“Robin Ryger, It’s an honour to meet you.” A large, elderly, bald man said. 

“I’ve met you before! You bowed to me once in a shop!” Dany exclaimed. 

“She remembers me! Honour of honours.” He shouted. 

She shook hand after hand after hand, Kyra Goodbrook seemingly brought her entire family to meet her at least twice. 

A handsome, slender young man approached her, he had a puzzled expression on his face and piercing blue eyes. 

“Professor Royce.” He introduced himself dazedly, “One of your teachers at Hogwarts.” 

Varys and Hodor appeared behind him. 

“Professor Royce,” Varys greeted him, “I see that you have met Daenerys.”

“What do you teach?” Daenerys asked politely. 

“Defence against the Dark arts.” He replied vacantly, “Quite fascinating really, did I tell you Varys about the history of wilding defensive magic?”

“Multiple times.” Varys replied, “I trust that not all of your curriculum in September will be about your year beyond the wall?” 

This seemed to cause Royce to shudder slightly almost as if there was a draft blowing down his neck. 

“Curriculum. Lots to cover. I must prepare for next term.” He bowed deeply to them all and then strode away. 

Varys quickly dispersed the still-eager crowd and led Dany and Hodor to the back of the inn through a door and out into a neatly kept courtyard. 

“Hold my hand, Daenerys.” Varys instructed, “We’ll have to apparate.” 

With a sharp crack and a rising tide of nausea, they turned on the spot and vanished, reappearing moments later in a small dingy passage. Dany fought the strong urge to vomit and Varys nodded approvingly. 

“Side-along apparition is rarely enjoyable. It shows great strength that you did not redecorate your new clothes upon arrival.” 

Dany looked disbelievingly at him but could not open her mouth to reply. 

Varys led them down the alley and out onto one of the most incredible sights Dany had ever seen. The cobbled street was littered with shops and there was a buzz of activity as hundreds of witches and wizards went about their business. The sun shone brightly off a stack of gleaming cauldrons which a sign promised were self-cleaning, self-polishing and self-stirring. 

“All in good time.” Varys promised, “We need to acquire some money first.” 

“But I haven’t got any money. Viserys certainly won’t pay for anything.” 

Varys raised an eyebrow, “Do you honestly think that we would trust Viserys Targaryen with the full wealth of Aegon the conqueror? Your true inheritance, Daenerys has been waiting for you at the iron bank.” 

Daenerys racked her brain for anything her brother might have said about the iron bank. 

“The iron bank is run by goblins isn’t it?” 

“Indeed, you would be extremely brave and extremely foolish to attempt to rob or cheat them.”

“Why would you be foolish?” She asked. 

“There’s all manner of spells and enchantments, not to mention the dragon that reportedly guards the most ancient family vaults. Not that we will be going that far today.” He replied to her disappointment, “The Targaryen’s may be prestigious amongst wizardkind but the goblins keep far older records, only families with the blood of the first men hold deep enough vaults.” 

As they strode towards an intimidating sandstone building, Dany listened carefully to the gossip that flew around them from the mouths of passing witches and wizards. 

“Another bylaw for the benefit of the Lannister’s, what was Sparrow thinking?”

“Did you hear Bethany Fairfingers on the radio last night?” 

“A thousand golden dragons for a broomstick? You must be mad!” 

A small leathery figure greeted them at the door to the iron bank.

“Valar morghulis.” He muttered. 

“Valar dohaeris,” Varys replied smoothly, “Would it be possible to have a private meeting with Tycho? It concerns King’s Landing business, Selmy’s orders.” 

The goblin bowed deeply, the tip of his hooked nose touching the floor. They were shown into the spacious golden atrium and Dany and Hodor were shown to plush armchairs whilst Varys glided away with a gaunt goblin who had a long thin goatee. Dany took the opportunity to have another look at her letter and discovered a kit list on the back. 

KING’S LANDING ACADEMY OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Five sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

3\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Beatrix Ryburn

A History of Magic by Aemon Targaryen

Magical Theory by Vaegon Hake

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Barcoin Forth

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Sporus Plenty

Magical Drafts and Potions by Caerful Pourer

From Grumpkins to Snarks: Magical Zoology by Lionel Aetu 

The Dark Forces: Practical Self Protection by Symeon Star-Eyes. 

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope set

1 brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Dany looked at the list in wonder, soon she was going to have more possessions than she had had her entire life. She was a tad disappointed that dragon was not on the approved list of pets and horrified that gloves could be made out of her favourite animal.

When Varys reappeared with the gaunt goblin, he had something curved in a large drawstring bag that he quickly tucked inside his robes when he noticed her watching. 

The journey down to her vault was less than ideal and by the time they reached the large metal door, which was embossed with a three-headed dragon both Dany and Hodor were a faint shade of green and neither was able to tell Varys to stop describing the various ways that protection charms could immolate, decapitate or even castrate potential thieves. 

“Of course these days St Baelor’s is able to reattach practically everything, which rather takes the danger out of the whole affair. Excellent, we’re here. Now, Daenerys, place your hand on the door.” 

She did so and felt a comforting warmth surge through her palm. Then the door opened revealing an enormous stack of golden dragons, silver stags and copper pennies. She hastily stuffed a pile of it into a small sack and mentally promised to never ever allow Viserys anywhere near this pile of riches. 

The journey back up to the atrium was no more pleasant than their journey down and Dany was relieved to stagger, blinking, back into the sunlight outside of the Iron Bank. 

“We ought to get your robes first.” Varys said smartly, “Off you go, I will wait outside with Hodor.” 

Dany nodded weakly and stepped nervously into Madam Melesa’s Robes for all occasions. 

Madam Melesa was a tall, scrawny witch who had greying blonde hair and a pinched critical face. She gnawed her lower lip as she looked Daenerys over and then dragged her to the back of the shop, muttering, “Another one for King’s Landing, Lyonel” to a man with a weak chin and thinning hair. 

Standing in front of the weak-chinned man on a wooden step-stool was a pale boy with golden hair and a face that would have been handsome were it not for the pouty lips that were drawn into a disgusted sneer. 

“Hello,” said the boy, “King’s Landing too I presume.”

“Yes,” Dany replied.

“My grandfather’s next door buying my books, mother’s up the street looking at wands. Although it wouldn’t surprise me if I get one custom made, father’s very particular about me having the best.” The boy had a whiny, contemptuous voice. 

“Have you got your own broom?” The boy continued, “It’s ludicrous that first years aren’t allowed to bring them. I expect that I’ll bully grandfather into buying me a new one before term starts and smuggle it in with me. Do you know what house you’ll be in yet?”   
“No,” Daenerys replied shortly, disliking the boy more and more with each word he uttered. 

“Well no one really knows until they get there but I know I’ll be in Maegor’s, my whole family have been there. Who’d want to be in Rhaenys’? I think I’d rather leave.”

“Mmm,” said Dany, desperately trying to resist the urge to punch the boy. 

“I say, who’s that oaf?” The boy cried nodding towards the window. Hodor waved at them and beamed into the shop, pressing his nose against the glass. 

“That’s Hodor.” Daenerys replied coolly, “He works at King’s Landing.”

“He’s that halfwit servant, isn’t he? Who can only say his own name.” 

“He’s the groundskeeper.” Dany’s dislike of the boy was rapidly slipping into loathing. 

“Yes, exactly. My grandfather says that he ought to have been banned from the school years ago. Why is he with you anyway? Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead,” Dany said shortly. 

“My most humble apologies,” drawled the boy, not sounding sorry at all, “But they were our kind, weren’t they?” 

“They were a witch and wizard if that’s what you mean.” 

The boy rolled his eyes dismissively, “Not that,” he dropped his voice, “They were, you know, pureblood?” 

“Yes.” Dany said incredulously, “But what…” 

Before Dany could continue Madame Melesa said, “That’s you all done, miss.” Grateful for the excuse to leave the boy as soon as humanly possible, she hopped down off the step stool.

“I look forward to seeing you again at school.” The boy called as she hurriedly paid for her robes and dashed out of the shop. 

As they sat around a small table outside of an ice cream shop, Varys looked conspiratorially at her. 

“What did you make of the young gentlemen in the shop?” He asked slyly.

“You knew he was in there?” She demanded hotly.

“That young man is from an old and powerful family. I wanted you to get the measure of him before September.” 

“He was awful. He’s spoiled and rude and he said that he would sooner leave school than be in Rhaenys’ house.” Dany ranted. 

“Rhaenys Targaryen was known for her kindness and loving nature rather than the intellectual passion of Visenya, the bravery and strength of Aegon or the cunning cruelty of Maegor. There are some wizards, like that young man’s grandfather, who consider kindness and fairness to be a weakness.” 

“My mother wasn’t weak!” She said outraged.

“Certainly not.” Varys replied calmly, “I am telling you what others will say, not what I think myself. What else did the boy say?” 

Dany frowned, “He asked if my parents were pureblood. What does that matter? Viserys is still a squib. Blood doesn’t matter to magic.” 

Varys considered this carefully, “I fully agree with you Daenerys, I myself am muggle-born and yet, more than a proficient wizard. It matters because it tells us that prejudice towards those of non-magical parentage is alive and well in certain wizarding families.”

They bought her books in a large bookshop called Abelon and Mancaster that had books in every nook and cranny. Some shelves bore many copies of the same glossy book whilst others, further back, had ancient and dusty rare volumes shoved on them haphazardly. Varys escorted her away from a large black tome entitled A Thousand and One Ways to Eviscerate Your Enemies by Alexander Talionis. 

“I want to curse Viserys.” She grumbled. 

“Wait until your seventeen,” Varys whispered, “So that you can cover it up properly.” 

“Hodor” Hodor agreed. 

She wasn’t allowed to buy a Valeryian steel cauldron (“It says pewter for an excellent reason, Daenerys”) or a set of diamond-tipped quills but they did get a sensible set of scales, a nice telescope and an assortment of roots, herbs and fungi that she would need for potions. Varys told her the correct weight for everything that she would need for her first year and made her promise never to buy one of the pre-prepared potions kits.   
“It costs three times what it is worth and I happen to know that your future potions master takes great delight in reaping the profits of house-elf labour,” Varys said this in an odd tone that implied both grudging respect and utter loathing for the potions professor. 

Outside the apothecary, they rechecked her list. 

“You need a wand and whilst you cannot bring a dragon to school, perhaps you would like another companion? I would recommend either an owl or a cat. Owls are useful and cats make excellent company.” 

Dany thought about it. She desperately wanted a dragon but knew that she would not be allowed, even if she could find one for sale. Cats were cuddly but owls could fly which was closer to dragons she supposed? 

Twenty minutes later, they left the Owl Emporium with a large silver-grey owl fast asleep in a cage. Daenerys stared at the creature in wonder and beamed at both Varys and Hodor as they stumbled towards the wand shop. 

The shop was dark and shabby and clearly the oldest on the street, a sign in peeling silver paint read Noye & Sons: Makers of fine wands since 5000 BAC. 

When they opened the door a miniature hammer struck a tiny anvil, sending a loud ‘ting’ round the shop. A tall, muscular man with black stubble strode into view. His right sleeve was pinned up revealing an artificial arm with dozens of tiny cogs inside that whirred and hummed. 

“Professor Varys.” Mr Noye nodded, “Good to see you again. Eight and a half inches, acacia and unicorn hair, very subtle, excellent for delicate charms work. Is it working for you still?” 

“As sublimely as the day I bought it.” Varys replied courteously, “But that is not why I am here.” He pushed Daenerys forwards and Noye blinked hard at her. 

“Daenerys Targaryen. I did wonder when you would be through my door. I sold your brother his wand and my father sold your parents their wands. Aerys, thirteen inches, cherry and dragon heartstring, very unyielding. Rhaella, ten inches, elm and unicorn hair. Rhaegar, twelve inches, hornbeam and dragon heartstring.” He muttered this without taking the slightest breath. “Strange to think that my family has been selling wands for so many generations that we most likely sold The Night King his wand. I’ve always wondered.”

Noye moved closer, studying her. Finally, he seemed to spot Hodor. 

“Hello there Walder,” Noye said grimly.

“Hodor,” Hodor replied. 

“Oak and unicorn hair, twenty-four inches, broken into kindling. What a waste of a good wand.”

“Hodor” Hodor nodded but from inside his coat pocket, he produced two jagged pieces of wood that both emitted faint sparks and Dany wondered how broken the wand actually was. 

“Could we perhaps ensure that Daenerys gets her wand?” Varys asked politely and glared at Hodor until he sheepishly put the bits of broken wand away. 

Noye produced an enchanted tape measure and sent it dancing around her, seemingly measuring every inch of her body. 

“Wand arm?” He barked. 

“Erm…” She replied.

“Are you right or left-handed?” 

“Right-handed.” She replied as the tape measure re-measured the length, width and circumference of her dominant arm.

“Wands are temperamental creatures.” Noye muttered, “ Every wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. You will never get such good results with another witch or wizard’s wand. The wand chooses the witch, not the witch the wand." 

Finally, he seemed satisfied and began summoning boxes from the high, dusty shelves behind him. 

“Right, try this one. Maple and dragon-heartstring.”

She had barely touched the wand before he tore it away, muttering that it wasn’t right. This happened again and again, laurel and unicorn tail, beach and phoenix feather. Nothing seemed to be quite right for Mr Noye and the piles of boxes grew higher and higher. She almost thought that he was satisfied with a holly and phoenix feather wand but he hesitated before pulling it away, murmuring “so close, very curious”. 

Finally, after what felt like hours he handed her a wand that felt warm in her hand the moment she touched it and when she waved it, a stream of red and black sparks flew out of it.   
“About bloody time.” Noye muttered but he seemed pleased with himself, “Hawthorn and dragon heartstring. Ten and a quarter inches. Curious.”

“What is curious?” Varys said sharply. 

“Very unusual combination.” Noye said dryly, “Great power, great talent, well suited to healing magic and curses. It is a wand of a powerful witch with the potential for great change.” 

“Is that good?” Daenerys asked tentatively.

“Change is change. Power is power.” Noye replied, “It depends on your intentions.” 

Dany wasn’t entirely sure that she liked Mr Noye and she was relieved when she handed him five golden dragons and he gruffly nodded them out of the shop. 

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Varys apparated her back to The Clanking Dragon. He had arranged for her to stay, under Masha Heddle’s strict supervision, for the month leading up to the beginning of the term to allow Viserys and Barristan Selmy to have a long-overdue chat. He had told her this with a smile on his face that promised that her brother was not going to enjoy the conversation. 

When they had eaten dinner together and placed her new belongings and her owl in her room. Dany plucked up the courage to ask, “All those people today, Professor Royce, Mr Noye they all think that I’m special but...I hardly know any magic. How can they expect greatness from me? Viserys always said that I’m stupid and useless. I’m famous and until this morning I didn’t know that and I can’t even remember what I’m famous for.” 

Varys leaned forward allowing Dany to realise just how weirdly unwrinkled his skin was. “No one is expecting a saviour. They are expecting an eleven-year-old girl who has a lot to learn about the world. You do have a lot to learn, child, but you also have also somehow managed to survive living with Viserys. You possess strengths and vulnerabilities that your classmates will never understand. Listen to your teachers, learn from your classmates and make friends with people you want to be friends with. The glimpse I have seen of you today shows me that you are brave, kind and curious. If you bring those traits with you to King’s Landing, you shall be fine.” 

“Hodor” added Hodor in agreement. 

“Now then,” Varys said standing up, “Here is your ticket for the King’s Road Express, eleven am sharp on September 1st from Whiteharbour. Masha will be able to apparate you to the station. If you go into the muggle world or Viserys contacts you, I will find out, Daenerys. Please stay at the inn unless Masha is with you.”   
Varys and Hodor bid her farewell before they turned on the spot and vanished. Dany stared at where they had been for a few moments before staggering, exhausted upstairs. She grinned broadly at her new owl. Tomorrow, she thought, I shall find you a name.


	6. The King's Landing Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany finally boards the train for school and makes some new friends and some familiar enemies.

Dany’s last month of the summer holidays was the most fun she had ever had. Every morning she had breakfast in the inn kitchen with Masha Heddle, the innkeeper, and her nieces Jeyne and Willow who were thirteen and six. Jeyne was entering her third year at King’s Landing and was in Visenya’s House. She was tall and had a hard, suspicious face. It took her a full week for her to warm up to Dany. Willow was small and bossy and could be frequently found forcing unsuspecting patrons to tidy up after her. 

Dany kept to her room as much as possible, not wanting to disobey Varys or be mobbed by anyone. She had her new owl for company. She had named him Quicksilver after one of the old Targaryen dragons. She had avidly read A History of Magic, she had discovered to her joy that not only was written by a great-great-uncle, but it contained answers to questions that she had always had but Darry couldn’t and Viserys wouldn’t answer. She had discovered, for example, that her ancestor Aegon Targaryen had taken the concept of pureblood a little too literally and that Visenya and Rhaenys had been his sisters, Maegor was Visenya and Aegon’s eldest son. No wonder, Maegor was mad, she thought. Her breakfast had very nearly threatened to come back up again when she discovered that her parents had been cousins themselves and although sibling incest had ended with Maegor, there was still a tendency within pureblood families for women to marry without changing their surname. 

On the last day of August, Masha made an enormous steak and kidney pie followed by sticky toffee pudding with custard. 

“Are you packed for school, Dany?” Masha said kindly.

“I think so,” she replied, “I’ve never had to pack before. I never had anything to pack before.”

Jeyne’s face soured and Willow repeated her frequent offer to send Viserys a dungbomb.

“If you leave anything behind dear, we can always send it by owl,” Masha said hastily. 

They ended the evening with a spirited game of exploding snap that resulted in everyone but Dany receiving burns to their hands and face. 

“It’s not fair!” Willow moaned, “I want special fire powers.” 

Dany smiled at the younger girl, “Targaryens only I’m afraid and even then only special Targaryens. My brother would burn as bad as you two.”

That put a mischievous glint into Willow’s eye and Dany resolved to suggest to Masha that she monitor out-going owls for a while. 

The next morning, Dany rose early, too excited and scared to go back to sleep. She got up and pulled on a blue tunic dress and leggings and new boots that Masha had given her. She would change into her robes on the train, there would be too many muggles around at the station. She checked her room and Quicksilver’s cage three times to make sure that she had everything packed and secure before she stumbled down the stairs. Rather than apparating, which Masha considered wildly impractical with three children, two trunks and an owl, they were given a lift by Thoros Myr, one of Masha’s regulars who turned up at half-past nine in a bright red sports car. Once Masha had finished clouting him on the head with a large ladle, they had somehow all squeezed into Thoros’ car. Dany suspected that there was a large amount of magic involved in the speed with which they reached Whiteharbor as they arrived half an hour early. 

“Find the station then Dany,” Jeyne said with a sly grin. 

Dany looked down at her ticket, platform seven it definitely said. She gazed, confused, around the seemingly ordinary muggle station. One, two, three, four, five, six, eight, nine... 

“There’s no seven.” She exclaimed. 

“Not that the muggles can see anyway.” Thoros said with a broad grin, “Have a good term, girls. I’ll be by at around eight for those fire whiskies you owe me, Masha.” With that, he strode back toward the car. Masha scowled at his retreating back and told Willow to hide the decent whiskey when they returned to the inn. 

Dany was still utterly baffled as to how to get onto the platform. She couldn’t ask the muggle station guards and she knew Jeyne well enough by now that she wouldn’t get a straight answer out of her for at least twenty minutes. Just as she was preparing to wait, a swarm of red hair arrived. 

“Packed with muggles, of course.”

A tall, striking woman with long auburn hair and a large number of children was striding past her. There were four boys- three redheads and a brunette and two girls- one redhead and one brunette, an owl, and the ugliest cat she had ever seen. 

Heart hammering, Daenerys followed them, ignoring Jeyne’s muttered: “That’s cheating.” 

“Now what’s the platform number?” The mother said in an exasperated voice. 

“Seven.” said the brown-haired girl mutinously

“Not fair! My turn to say the number!” The smallest red-haired boy wailed. 

“It’s not fair that I get stuck at home for another two years.” The girl replied, “Why can’t I go to King’s Landing this year, mum?” 

“Because, Arya,” Her mother replied, “You have to be eleven to start school, you have to wait. Just like Sansa, Bran and Rickon. Alright, Robb, you go first.” 

The eldest of the red-haired boys marched towards the wall between platforms six and eight but before Dany could see exactly how he did it, a crowd of tourists obstructed her view and when the wall re-emerged, the boy had vanished. 

“Arya and Sansa, you’re next, hold hands.” Their mother commanded. 

“But mum!” The red-haired girl moaned, “I don’t want to hold her hand.” 

Her mother sighed with annoyance, “Very well. Bran and Sansa, you’re next, hold hands.” 

The red-haired girl took her brother’s hand and they walked together towards the barrier. Dany watched as the two children somehow vanished before her eyes. 

This was it, she thought, there was nothing else for it. 

“Excuse me,” She asked the red-haired woman. 

“First time at King’s Landing?” The woman replied, raising one eyebrow, “It’s Robb and Jon’s first time too.” She gestured at the dark-haired boy who was tall and pale with a long face and dark grey, almost black eyes. He gave Dany an awkward, half-smile. 

“Yes,” She nodded, “But I don’t know how to get onto the platform.”

“Not to worry.” The woman said briskly, “All you need to do is walk directly at the barrier between platforms six and eight. Don’t stop or be scared or you’ll crash into it. Best do it at a run if you're nervous. You can go now, before Jon.”

She nodded nervously but turned started pulling her trunk and owl before the barrier. She stared at it, it looked very solid. She marched towards the barrier, picking up speed despite her panic that she was going to run smack into the wall. It was coming nearer and nearer, she was going to hurt herself… and then she was running out onto a wide platform and there was a black and scarlet steam engine with a crowd of people surrounding it. A sign overhead said ‘King’s Landing Express’, eleven o’clock. She looked behind her and saw a large silver sign that read Platform Seven. 

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. 

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Dany pushed her cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. She passed the fattest boy she had ever seen who was saying, “Mother, have you seen my toad. I’ve lost it again.” 

“Oh, Sam” An obviously muggle woman was saying. 

“Five bloody minutes, you great lump. You couldn’t hold onto that sodding thing for five bloody minutes.” A lean man with a bald head and a short bristly, grey beard spat.

Further down the platform, a tall girl with short coal-black hair was surrounded by a cluster of her friends. 

“Go on, Mya, give us a look!” 

The girl lifted the lid of a box in her arms, and the people around her shrieked and yelled as something inside let out a loud ‘cock-a-doodle-doo’ and a scaly tail poked out of the box. 

Dany pressed on through the crowd until she found an empty compartment near the end of the train. She put Quicksilver inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk towards the train door. She tried to lift it up the steps but couldn’t even lift one end. 

“Want a hand?” It was the eldest red-haired boy she had followed through the barrier. 

“Yes, please.” Dany panted. 

“Oi! Jon, give us a hand.” 

The dark-haired boy rushed over and with their help, her trunk was soon tucked away in a corner of the compartment. 

“Thanks,” Dany said, sweeping a strand of sweaty silver out her eyes. 

“Your hair colour is really unusual.”The red-haired boy said, gesturing at her. 

The dark-haired boy was staring intently at her. “You were at the zoo,” He said quietly, “Are you...alright?” 

“Fine,” she said quietly, “Thanks for your help.” 

“I know who you are!” The red-haired boy exclaimed, “You’re Daenerys Targaryen!”

She flushed violently as they both stared at her. Then to her relief, an authoritative voice came floating in through the window. 

“Robb? John? Are you there?” 

“Coming, Mum.” The red-head called. 

With one last awestruck (Robb) and concerned (Jon) look at her, they hopped off the train. 

Dany sat down next to the window where half-hidden, she could watch Robb and Jon’s family and hear what they were saying. The mother had just taken out her handkerchief and was rubbing furiously at Robb’s nose. 

“Honestly, Robb. You abandon your trunks with Rickon and Arya and then when you come back, you’ve got soot all over your face.” 

Robb tried ducking out of his mother’s way but was grabbed by his youngest sister and pushed back towards the advancing handkerchief. 

“Mum...I don’t need you to clean my face.” He wriggled free. 

“Aw! Has mummy’s little hero got somefink on his noise-wosie.” His youngest sister said. 

“Shut up, Arya,” Robb growled. 

“Robb Stark.” A gravelly voice called, “You know better than to talk to your sister like that.” 

A stone-faced man in his late-twenties with close-cropped black hair came striding towards them. He wore exceptionally neat black robes with a stag shaped pin on the lapel. Behind him ran a tall, handsome teenage boy with long black hair and laughing blue eyes. 

The red-haired family greeted the newcomers. The teenage boy hugged everyone enthusiastically. The stern man soberly shook all the children's’ hands but submitted awkwardly to a quick hug from the mother. 

“Can’t stay long, I’m afraid Catelyn,” the man said shortly, “I promised Seaworth that I would relieve him by twelve.”

“I’m just glad to see you Stannis. You’re looking too thin, do I need to owl lunches to you again?” Catelyn said frowning at him. 

“He needs to stop working to eat. That’s the problem.” The handsome teenager laughed, “He can’t risk getting his panini on the parchment.” 

Stannis ground his teeth, “Thank you for your concern, Renly.” 

“I am serious, Stannis.” Catelyn said, “I will invite you to dinner every night and force you to eat third helpings of everything.” 

Stannis reluctantly agreed and moved to shake his brother, Renly’s hand. It was promptly ignored and he was barreled into an enthusiastic bear-hug. Dany had a strong suspicion that Renly was fully aware of the extent to which it irritated his brother. With a final scowl at Renly and a nod of the head to everyone else, Stannis strode away. 

“I’ll see you at school, Robb and Jon. I promised Loras Tyrell that I would look over his charms homework before we arrived.” Renly said with a knowing smile. 

He gave everyone one last hug before he sauntered off in the direction of a boy with long curly brown hair. 

Once Renly was out of sight, Jon tugged on Catelyn’s arm, “Aunt Catelyn, do you remember the girl we helped onto the train…”

Robb interrupted him, “She’s Daenerys Targaryen!” 

Dany leaned back quickly so that they couldn’t see her looking. 

Jon glared at Robb, “She’s also the girl from the zoo, the one with the dragon?” 

Catelyn’s voice became more concerned, “That poor girl, no wonder she was alone. I had hoped that she was rescued from that awful man you said she was with.” 

“But mum!” Arya yelled, “She’s Daenerys Targaryen. Can we go and see her?”

“Yeah!” Bran added, “Do you think that she remembers The Night King?” 

“You are absolutely not to go and see her Arya.” Catelyn said sternly, “And I forbid you to ever ask her Bran. She does not need reminding of that on her first day at school.”

Her sternness lessened and became more anxious, “Jon and Robb, you are under no circumstances what-so-ever to ask her about that awful man unless she mentions it first and wants to talk about it.” 

“Yes, Aunt Catelyn,” Jon replied

“Yeah, yeah, keep your hair on.” Robb reluctantly agreed. 

A whistle sounded. 

“Now hurry up!” Catelyn said and she levitated Robb and Jon’s trunks and pets onto the train. Robb and Jon clambered onto the train and leaned out of the window to wave goodbye. Sansa began to cry. 

“Don’t cry Sansa, we’ll send you loads of owls,” Jon said earnestly.

“We’ll send you a toilet seat.” 

“Robb!” 

“Only joking Sansa, we’ll send one to Arya instead!” 

The train began to move. Dany saw Catelyn waving and their siblings half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed and they fell back and waved. 

Dany watched as the family disappeared as the train rounded the corner. Tumbledown cottages, fishing boats and a craggy moss-covered castle flew past the window. Dany felt a great leap of excitement. This was it. She was going to King’s Landing. She had beaten Viserys. 

The door of the compartment slid open and Robb and Jon charged in. 

“Mind if we sit with you?” Jon asked, glaring at Robb who had already sat down. 

Dany shook her head and Jon sat opposite her. He glanced at Dany and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending that he hadn’t looked. Dany smiled to herself. Robb had already put his feet up on the opposite bench and was lolloping back in his seat. She noticed that he still had some dirt on his nose. 

The compartment door slid back open. Renly and the curly-haired boy looked affronted to see that they were there but their expressions changed when they saw her. 

“Daenerys Targaryen, right?” the curly-haired boy said. 

“Yes,” she said politely. 

“Cool.” Renly replied, “You’ve not seen an empty carriage, have you? We need to do some charms practise without the prefects catching us.” 

“No, sorry.” She mumbled. 

“No worries,” Renly said, “Did we introduce ourselves? Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell. See you around.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Dany said as Loras dragged Renly back out of their carriage. 

There was a moment of awkward silence. 

“They’re not too bad.” Jon said, gesturing at the door, “Bit full of themselves but they’ll generally lookout for you if they know you. Renly’s basically an honorary Stark. My aunt and uncle, Robb’s mum and dad, basically adopted Renly and Stannis after their elder brother and parents were killed by The Night King.”

“Do you remember him?” Robb said eagerly.

Jon kicked Robb hard in the shin. 

“It’s alright,” Daenerys said, “I remember a lot of green light and high laugh but nothing else.” 

“Wow!” Robb said, rubbing his shin. Jon was staring at her but when he realised what he was doing, he quickly looked out the window again. 

“Are all your family wizards?” asked Dany, who found Robb and Jon absolutely fascinating. 

“We think so,” said Robb, “The Starks have been magical since the days of the first men. Mum’s family has been magical for at least the last three hundred years.”

“So you must know loads of magic, already.”  
She had learned from ‘A History of Magic’ that the Starks were one of the oldest magical families, there was perhaps only the Lannisters and the Arryns whose magical lineage could be traced back further. 

“That lunatic you were at the zoo with.” Jon asked awkwardly, “Who was he? He seemed...horrible.”

“My brother Viserys,” She replied hesitantly, “He’s more than horrible. I wish I had a loving family like yours.” 

“Yeah,” Jon said gloomily, “They’re great.”

“We are great.” Robb said confidently, “Stop being a misery-guts Jon, you’re a Stark no matter what.” 

Dany must have looked confused because Robb added, “No one has the faintest idea who Jon’s father is or whether his mother joined The Night King or got kidnapped. It’s given him a delightful outlook on life.”  
Robb bent down and opened a small wicker cage, allowing the hideous cat to stretch its legs. Its fur was so golden it was nearly white, mismatched eyes- one green, one black and extremely short, bandy legs. Its face was squashed and something had taken a sizable chunk out of its nose.

“His name’s Florian,” Robb grinned as the cat batted playfully at her foot, “Our sister Sansa named him before any of the rest of us could give him a more sensible name. I was going to ask for an owl but he wanted to come home with us too much.” 

Dany bent down and allowed Florian to sniff at her fingers. When he acquiesced, she scratched him under his chin. 

“So, your brother.” Jon asked, “He got burned by the dragon. I thought that Targaryen’s had magic fire powers.” 

“He’s a squib.” Dany replied, “I think you need magic to be fireproof.”

“Is that why he’s an arsehole?” Robb queried.

“Part of it. I often think that he’d be an...arsehole if he did have magic.” She muttered. 

As they talked the train had chugged merrily out of the North and into the Riverlands. Now they were rushing past lush meadows and trickling rivers filled with leaping fish. They were quiet for a time. Daenerys curled up with Florian napping next to her, Jon re-reading The Standard book of spells and Robb made a house of cards with an exploding snap deck. 

Around half-past twelve there was a great clattering in the corridor and a smiling round-faced woman slid back their door and said, “Anything off the trolly, dears?”

Without allowing for any protests, Robb leapt to his feet and bought a sizeable amount of everything that the witch sold, brought it back to his seat and neatly divided it into three near-equal piles before handing it to a resigned Jon and a flustered Dany. 

“Aunt Catelyn has always taught us to be generous hosts and Robb takes after her. You’d better take them before he starts telling you that you’re too thin and need looking after.” Jon said dryly.

They sat in happy silence, munching their way steadily through the large piles of sweets and chocolate.

“What are these?” Dany asked, holding up a packet of chocolate frogs, “They’re not really frogs, are they?”

“Nah,” Robb said, “But see what the card is, I’m missing Elenei.” 

“What?” 

“Have you never had chocolate frogs for?” Jon asked in amazement, “Well, they’ve got cards inside them, with famous witches and wizards on for you to collect. We’ve got about five hundred each, but Robb’s missing Elenei and I’m missing Garth Greenhand.”

Dany unwrapped her chocolate frog and picked up the card. It showed a man’s face. He had pale blue eyes, that seemed to Dany to be quite sad. Both his hair and beard were long and white, matching his white and silver robes. Underneath the picture was the name Barristan Selmy. 

“So this is Selmy.” Dany murmured. She turned over the back of the card and read. 

BARRISTAN SELMY, CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF KING’S LANDING ACADEMY

Considered by many to be one of the greatest wizards of modern times. Selmy is particularly famous for defeating Dark Wizard Maelys the Monstrous in 260 AC, for rescuing Minister for Magic Aerys Targaryen from the Darklyn rebellion, discovering the twelve uses of dragon’s blood and his work on enchanted magical objects with his partner Jeor Mormont. Professor Selmy enjoys folk songs and lawn darts. 

Dany turned the card back over and saw that Selmy’s face had disappeared. Strangely disappointed, she placed the card in her pocket and turned back to Robb who was cursing loudly. 

“I’ve got bloody Patrice Hightower again. I’ve got about twelve of her...do you want it? You can start collecting.” 

By the time that they had eaten their way through the large pile of sweets, Dany’s new collection included Shiera Seastar, Ursula Upcliff and Lann the Clever who smirked knowingly at her. She tore herself away from Lann’s arrogant grin as Robb opened a packet of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans.

Jon groaned, “Do we have to Robb? You know I think that Renly was lying about that vomit flavoured one.”

Robb grinned and shook the bag in his cousin’s face until he took one, then pointed it towards Dany. 

She picked up a red bean and looked at it carefully. Jon looked suspiciously at his own green coloured bean before biting resignedly into a corner. 

“See, Robb, sprouts.”

Robb and Dany had a good time eating the every flavoured beans, only slightly spoiled by Jon’s refusal to join in. Dany got baked beans, custard, AA battery, oranges and a particularly funny looking multi-coloured one that turned out to be minestrone soup. 

The countryside was now flying past the window and becoming less and less interesting as rolling hills gave way to flat, overly farmed grasslands and large gloomy factories. 

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the enormously fat boy Dany had passed on the platform came in. He looked tearful. 

“Sorry,” He blubbed, “But have you seen a toad at all?” 

They shook their heads but offered to help him search. He shook his head weakly mumbling something about his father wouldn’t want them helping him and stumbled away. 

“Poor bloke.” Robb said, “I saw his parents on the platform, his father seemed ghastly. Not that I would search that hard for a toad mind, I’d try losing it as fast as I could.” 

“But your parents would quickly buy you a new pet.” Dany retorted, “I bet that his dad certainly wouldn’t.”

“And you’ve got Florian anyway,” added Jon. In response, the cat stretched as far as his legs would allow and gambolled lazily over to Jon for attention. 

“You’re a right attention-hog, aren’t you Flori.” Robb said affectionately, “No one’s getting rid of you.” 

He brought a gleaming new wand out of his robe pocket and sent little red lights dancing all over the compartment for Florian to chase. Florian had just settled back to sleep in a patch of sunlight when the door opened again and three boys entered. Dany recognised the middle one at once: it was the pale, pouty boy from Madam Melesa’s. He was looking with Dany with a lot more interest than he had shown in Eel Alley. 

“Grandfather told me that Daenerys Targaryen would be on the train this year, so it’s you is it?”

"Yes," said Dany coldly. The two boys on either side of the blonde boy were both enormous. One was bullish with close-cropped dark hair, the other had a tangle of long black hair that failed to entirely cover a mass of tangled scar tissue. The blonde boy saw her staring. 

"This is Trant and the hound and I'm Joffrey, Joffrey Lannister. I'm sure that you have heard of my grandfather, the mighty Tywin Lannister." 

"No, sorry" Dany lied, her instincts correct that this would enrage the odious Joffrey. 

Robb sniggered and Joffrey's ears turned bright red. "Think that's funny do you, Stark? Wait until my grandfather hears about this." 

He turned back to Dany, "You'll soon find out, Targaryen, that some wizarding families are better than others. Just ask the bastard sitting opposite you. You don’t want to make friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand for her to shake but she didn’t take it.

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.” She said cooly. 

Joffrey’s face flushed an ugly purple. 

“I am a Lannister. How dare you speak to me like that! Unless you're a bit politer you’ll go the same way as the rest of your degenerate family. They didn’t know what was good for them either.” 

Dany stood up, fire burning through her veins. 

“Say that again.” She commanded. 

Robb and Jon rose to their feet as well. Robb looking furious, Jon was more cautious. 

“Starting a war, Stark?” Joffrey sneered, “Won’t mummy be thrilled.” 

“I don’t think that we’re going to fight” Robb replied stubbornly, “Doesn’t your family prefer running away and pretending that you weren’t involved in the first place?” 

Joffrey’s expression turned dangerous. He nodded at Trant and the Hound and they moved menacingly into the compartment. Trant picked up one of the leftover cauldron cakes and slowly and deliberately took a large bite out of it. Robb leapt forward but before he could reach Trant, the hulking boy let out a roar of pain. 

Florian had launched himself at Trant and was digging his claws into his leg. The cat scrambled up Trant’s body and then flung himself at Joffrey. The blonde boy screamed and clutched his face. Blood was dripping from a deep gash on his face. He bawled something about vengeance and his mother and then the three boys fled from the compartment, Trant and the Hound glaring at them as they left. 

Peace did not last long. They heard lumbering footprints, the door slid open again and the fat toadless boy came back in, clutching his wand nervously. 

“I...I...heard screaming. Is everyone alright?” He bumbled.

“Florian decided that he’d like Lannister for lunch,” Robb answered, stroking the hideous cat with a look of pride on his face. 

“Your cat attacked someone?” The boy asked a look of confusion on his large moon-shaped face. 

“He had it coming.” Dany said grimly, “We just probably shouldn’t have started a war with the Lannisters before we even got to school.” 

The round-faced boy became excited, “I read about the Lannisters in A History of Magic. Did you know that Tywin Lannister is the longest ever serving Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? He was also the youngest-ever head of a ministry department. He was only twenty when he got promoted.” 

He noticed Dany properly for the first time and gasped, “You must be Daenerys Targaryen. I read about you in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Warlocks of the Modern Age and Modern Wizarding Westeros History.”

“Really?” Dany asked politely.

“I wanted to get as much background reading done as I could before starting school. I didn’t know that I was a wizard until recently. Both of my parents are muggles. It was a bit of a shock when the letter came but it explained a fair amount about why I wasn’t like my younger brother. And King’s Landing is the best wizarding school there is. I’ve memorised all of the textbooks, I just hope that it will be enough.” He said without pausing for breath.

“You memorised the textbook?” Robb asked incredulously. 

“What’s your name?” Dany queried, in hopes of stopping Robb from being rude. 

“Oh, sorry, where are my manners. Sam Tarley, pleased to meet you.” He replied nervously. 

“I’m Robb Stark and this is my cousin Jon,” Robb said carelessly. 

“Pleased to meet you,” Sam repeated. There was an awkward pause. “Well,” Sam said, “I had better get back to finding Hill.”

“Hill?” Jon asked puzzled

“My toad,” Sam blustered, “It’s because he’s a horny toad and my family house is called Horn Hill, so he’s a horny Hill toad.” 

Dany smiled weakly and she and Jon told Sam that they would see him later. 

“He’s going to have a hard first term.” Jon mused.  
Robb snorted, “He’ll be put straight in Rhaenys’ house and Renly can take care of him. Although I doubt even Renly can help that much. Muggle-born; doesn’t know when to shut up and will blub like a toddler at the first opportunity.”

Jon looked troubled by this comment but he didn’t say anything. They were quickly approaching their destination now and Dany grabbed her robes from her trunk and went to the toilets to change. When she returned, Robb and Jon had changed into their own uniforms and neither looked very happy at having to do their top buttons up. 

A voice echoed through the train, “We will be arriving at school in five minutes, please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to school separately.”

Dany felt her heart soar. This was it. She was at King’s Landing. Her companions didn’t look anywhere near as happy. Robb looked slightly sick and Jon had an expression on his face that could only be described as brooding. 

The train slowed down and finally stopped. All around them she could hear people pushing and shoving their way onto the platform, greeting each other, insulting each other. They stood up and made their way to join the throng making its way up to school. 

“Hodor!” came a loud voice and Dany turned to see Hodor in his familiar patchwork of animal skins. He was holding a large sign that read ‘First years this way.’ 

They made their way over to Hodor, Dany was distinctly less nervous than the small crowd of other first years. The huddled together around Hodor until the giant was apparently satisfied that he had gathered them all. 

Slipping and stumbling down a flight of narrow, moss-covered stairs, they followed Hodor, tripping frequently as they tried to keep up with his much longer legs. It was pitch black and it was only when he started crying again that Dany realised that the dark mass in front of her was Sam Tarley. 

“Did you find Hill?” Dany asked kindly 

“No.” He sniffed, “My dad’s going to kill me.”

“It’s alright,” said Jon encouragingly, “I bet they’ll find Hill when they search the train.”

“And then I’ll just lose him again, “ Sam said despondently, “My dad always says that I’m useless.” 

Before Dany could tell Sam what she thought of his dad, there was a loud ‘ooh’ as King’s Landing came into sight for the first time. The castle, Aegonfort, was a masterpiece of magical architecture, enormous stone walls ran the whole way around a central fort that reminded her of a jigsaw puzzle. It was made of an odd jumble of stone, brick and metal, dominated by seven tall towers, each made of a different type of stone. 

“Hodor” bellowed Hodor, drawing their attention back to him. He had turned his sign around and it now read ‘no more than four to a boat.’ 

“Or just you on your own Piggy.” jeered a stout boy with a square freckled face. 

Dany very deliberately stepped backwards, hard, onto the stout boy’s toes. 

“Ooops.” She said blithely, striding confidently forwards to a boat, dragging Jon, Robb and a shamefaced Sam with her. 

She saw Joffrey, Trant and the Hound climb into a boat with a sly looking girl with long chestnut hair.

Hodor hodored repeatedly until everyone was in a boat. When he was satisfied he tapped his boat with what she was certain was a half a wand and the boats glided gracefully down the river. 

The tranquil waters lasted approximately two minutes before Dany realised that the waters were becoming faster and rougher and she was forced to wonder how many first years and never actually made it to school. Sam was moaning quietly and both Robb and Jon looked as though they were going to be sick. Fortunately, the river soon opened out onto a wide sea bay and the boats bobbed merrily over the choppy waves to a small harbour. They scrambled out of the boats, many people with a hand over their mouths. Hodor looked pleased with himself as he strode towards them and placed a distinctly miserable-looking toad into Sam’s arms. 

“Hill!” Sam cried happily and hugged the spiky, angry creature. 

They followed Hodor into a small cave that had a narrow passageway carved in the back, which led to a flight of serpentine stairs. They climbed steadily for five minutes, Sam puffing frantically in front of her. Just as Dany was wondering if they would be best stopping for a moment to make sure that Sam wasn’t going to keel over. They reached a huge, weirwood door. 

“Hodor.” hodored Hodor loudly.

He raised a gigantic fist and knocked loudly three times on the castle door.


	7. The Sorting Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come for Dany, Robb and Jon to be sorted, but will they find family or foes in their new houses?

The door swung open at once and a short, white-haired woman wearing green and gold robes tottered forward. Although she appeared feeble, Dany saw at once from her fierce expression that this was not a woman to cross. 

“Hodor,” said Hodor.

“Yes, yes, yes,” said the woman impatiently, “I can see that you’ve brought the first years.” She gave them all an appraising look. “My name is Professor Tyrell, I am the deputy headmistress for those of you who couldn't manage to read to the end of your acceptance letters. Follow me, and don’t traipse mud into the castle.” 

She pushed the door wide open and revealed the entrance hall, a wide, cold, stone room decorated sumptuously with intricate tapestries showing the lives of Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys. For a supposedly weak, elderly woman, Professor Tyrell moved incredibly quickly. As they moved past a large oaken door which was slightly ajar, Dany could hear the murmured conversations of hundreds of students inside the great hall. 

Professor Tyrell led them into a small ante-chamber that had a roaring fire in the grate. They huddled together sending nervous glances around the room, seizing each other up. 

“Welcome to King’s Landing Academy.” said Professor Tyrell dryly, “Although if you didn’t know that that is where you are already, then there is little hope of you learning anything here. In a moment you will go into the great hall but before you can stuff your faces, you will be sorted into your houses. The sorting is very important because you will sleep, eat and attend classes in your houses. Your house will become your family whilst you are at King’s Landing, that does not mean, however,” she continued, looking directly at Joffrey Lannister, “That you are allowed to do whatever you like, there are consequences at King’s Landing for tardy work and cruel behaviour. If you make the right choices you will receive house points, make the wrong choices and points will be taken away.” 

She gestured at four enormous hourglasses which had small gemstones hovering at the top. 

“There are four houses at King’s Landing, named after our three illustrious founders and their sadistic son. Aegon, Visenya, Rhaenys and Maegor. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the house cup. I hope that some of the wisdom I am currently imparting to you sinks in.” She said pointedly.   
“The sorting ceremony will take place in five minutes. I suggest you tidy yourselves up to ensure that you do not embarrass your future house.” Her eyes darted to Hill the toad who was excreting on Sam’s robes, the large smudge on Robb’s nose and the claw marks on Joffrey’s face. Then she swept out without another word. 

Dany tried to peer past her into the great hall but all she saw was the back of many heads. 

“How do they sort us?” She asked Robb

“Don’t know.” Robb shrugged, “Mum and Dad insisted on it being a surprise.”

“Renly tried telling us that we have to wrestle a mountain troll but Stannis told him off for lying. Do you think that it’s some sort of test?” Jon said pensively 

Dany’s mind scrambled to think of all the spells she had read about in her textbooks and wondered if managing not to throw up during the sorting ceremony would count as bravery. Her excitement had vanished and she was now feeling scared and quite sick. Sam Tarly looked terrified and he was mouthing incantations under his breath. 

Then something happened that made them all jump a foot in the air. A dozen ethereal figures glided into the room, all translucent and glowing silver. They seemed to be arguing and none of them noticed the first years. 

“My dear Martyn, we have given Patchface every possible chance to prove himself useful and yet none of our teaching seems to have produced any greater sense out of the poor chap. He confuses the students and gives us all a bad name- he’s not really a ghost anyway. I say- what are you doing here?” 

The ghost who was clad in a matching hose, tunic and jerkin had suddenly noticed the first years. 

Nobody answered. 

“New students.” said a ghost dressed in a septon's robes who was carrying his own head, “About to be sorted?”

A few students nodded. 

“I hope to see you all in Rhaenys, my old house, of course.”

“Well, we can’t hang around all day.” called a sharp voice, “Into the hall, the sorting is about to begin and it rarely works unless you're actually in the room.”  
Professor Tyrell had returned. The ghost wearing a jerkin bowed to her with a peculiar expression on his face that caused Professor Tyrell to roll her eyes at him. One by one, the ghosts floated through the wall to the great hall. 

“Now form a line.” Professor Tyrell commanded, “And follow me.” 

Feeling as though she was heading towards her own execution, Dany stumbled into the line behind Robb and Jon and in front of a short, cheerful-looking girl with short brown hair. They walked out of the ante-chamber and through the large oak doors into the great hall. 

Dany felt all the air in her lungs rush out of her as she stepped into the cavernous room. High and narrow stained glass windows ran along the walls. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At one end a raised dais held an enormous iron table where the teachers were sitting. Professor Tyrell led them up to the front and then lined them up, facing the rest of the students. Dany felt hundreds of pairs of eyes, both living and dead staring at her. Out of pure embarrassment, she looked up at the ceiling rather than risk staring back at the waiting students. The ceiling was covered with an ornate painting which showed dozens of interweaving dragons snapping at each other. 

“Dance of the dragons.” Sam Tarly whispered. 

She had read about it in history of magic, the great war between two of Aegon’s great-grandchildren over leadership of the school and the wizarding world. The battle killed both contenders and in the aftermath, the wizarding world had become a democracy and the school had become a wizarding school rather than a Targaryen school. 

Dany looked quickly down again as Professor Tyrell placed a circle crown of valeryian steel set with large red rubies onto the most peculiar-looking stool she had ever seen. It seemed to be composed of hundreds and hundreds of broken wands that had been bound together by the feathers, tail-hairs and heart-strings that had formerly been their cores. 

“The Iron Throne,” Jon whispered in her ear.

“But it’s made of wood,” She replied. 

“The iron bit refers to the blood of the enemies whose snapped wands were used,” Jon answered.

“Aegon was a charming bloke, wasn’t he,” Robb said wryly

Professor Tyrell glared at them and they fell silent. 

“When I call your name,” She announced, “You will step forward, sit on the stool” she gave the iron throne a dirty look, “And place the crown on your head.” 

Dany felt relief surge through her. All she had to do was sit on an admittedly uncomfortable looking chair and place a crown on her head. It was simple. No big test, no mountain troll. 

“I’m going to murder Renly,” Robb muttered.

Professor Tyrell produced a long piece of parchment. 

“Ashwood, Jeyne.”

A pale girl with long brown hair stepped forward. 

The rubies around the crown raised, almost like eyebrows. The crown appeared to be thinking. After a few moments, the central ruby seemed to split in two. 

“RHAENYS” proclaimed the crown. 

The table on the right cheered and the girl went and sat down beside her new housemates. 

“Blackwood, Hoster.”

A gangly boy with a large cowlick stepped forward. 

“VISENYA.” the crown called.

This time the table second from the left cheered and the boy galloped over. 

“Bracken, Barbara.” 

A course haired girl stepped forward.

“RHAENYS,” the crown said again. 

Buckler, Bethany went to Rhaenys as well but Charlton, Andrey became the first new member of Aegon’s and the table on the far left exploded in cheers. Dany could see Loras Tyrell cheering and an extremely buxom seventh-year girl with olive skin embraced Andrey. He was quickly joined by Cerwyn, Jonelle. 

Dany was shocked when Clegane, Sandor was called and the Hound stomped forward and placed the crown on his head. He appeared to snap at it for about thirty seconds before he became the first member of Maegor’s house. Dany could help but notice that Maegor students all had cruel or wanting faces. 

“Graceford, Alyce”

“VISENYA.” the crown proclaimed. 

She was feeling more and more nauseous now and wondered if she would be able to cut the queue for sorting. 

“Fossway, Leonette”

“RHAENYS.”

When “Lannister, Joffrey” was called, he sauntered over to the iron throne as though it was his birthright. The crown had barely touched his head when it put him in Maegor’s. Lannister went to go and join the Hound with a satisfied smirk on his face.

Sometimes, Dany noticed, the crown decided almost straight away but other times it took longer. Reed, Meera took nearly a minute before the crown decided on Aegon.

When Snow, Jon was called he staggered over like someone had just died. It took the crown over five minutes to sort Jon, causing Joffrey to start making snide comments about bastards not belonging at King’s Landing. Finally, the crown decided on Aegon’s. 

Robb was much quicker to be sent to Aegon’s and he sank onto a bench next to Jon looking incredibly relieved. 

There was barely anyone left now Stout, Suggs, Swygert and then Tallard, Benfred and then at last...

“Targaryen, Daenerys.” 

As Dany stepped forward, a hush fell over the students and she felt exposed as every pair of eyes tracked her progress towards the crown. As the valeryian steel touched her head she heard a deep, musical voice in her head. 

“Another Targaryen at last,” the voice said, amused, “You’re a tricky one and no mistake. Plenty of courage and a good mind, intelligent but also cunning. You’ll be a talented one, no mistake, a natural leader, very strong-willed even if you don’t know it yet. But where to put you.” 

She saw Joffrey Lannister’s pouty face swim before her eyes, “Not Maegor’s,” She begged, “I don’t care, just not Maegor’s.” 

The crown laughed, “There is a right answer then. Are you sure about Maegor’s? There are many paths to greatness, Daenerys Targaryen and some of them may be found with Maegor.” 

“Not Maegor’s,” She thought desperately. 

“Very well, instead I’ll send you to AEGON.”

Dany heard the crown shout the word to the entire hall and she swept the crown off her head and strode triumphantly towards her new house who were deafening the great hall with their shouts. She sank down next to Robb and Jon who both looked relieved to see her. 

She could see the high table properly now. At the end nearest her, she could see Hodor who beamed back at her. Further along, Professor Varys was looking immensely smug and was holding out his hand for a small elderly wizard dressed in long grey robes to place a handful of coins in it. In the middle of the table wearing robes of pure white was Barristan Selmy looking kinder and wiser than he had in his chocolate frog card. At the opposite end of the table, Professor Royce was sat, his bright blue eyes looking vacantly at the ceiling. 

And now there were only a dozen more people to sort. 

Tarly, Sam somehow managed to be sent to Aegon’s. He then walked off still wearing the crown. He had already sat down at the table before Professor Tyrell dragged him back to the iron throne by the ear to give the crown to a Tyrell, Margaery. Margaery, who was Loras’ sister and the Professor’s granddaughter, turned out to be the sly girl who had travelled in the boat with Joffrey and it was of little surprise to Daenerys when she was quickly sent to Maegor’s. 

Waters, Bella joined them in Aegon’s and Westerling, Jeyne was sent to Maegor’s. Finally, Professor Tyrell rolled up the scroll and, with a wave of her wand, levitated both the crown and the iron throne out of the room. 

Barristan Selmy rose to his feet and regarded them all with a stern, yet fond, expression. 

“Welcome, everyone to the beginning of another year at King’s Landing. I believe that announcements can wait until the end of the meal, I can hear many stomachs rumbling from here. Please, eat.” 

Selmy raised his arm and food appeared on every table. Dany could hardly believe her eyes, there was more food than she had seen in a lifetime. Viserys had normally made sure that she had some food but he was inconsistent in the number of meals and portion sizes. She quickly loaded her plate with trout and goat’s cheese tart, and roast beef and potatoes. 

“That does look good.” 

Dany looked up to see that the jerkin-wearing ghost was hovering next to her. His eyes were darting between Danys’ food and the buxom seventh-year girl.

“Can’t you?”

He looked forlorn, “I’ve not been able to eat, drink or do much else for the last two hundred years. I don’t need to of course, but damn I miss it.” 

Up close, Dany noticed that there was a large amount of silver blood gathered in a rather embarrassing place on his hose. 

“Who are you?” Robb said rudely through a mouthful of venison. 

“Lucamore Strong at your service, dashing ex-Auror and the resident ghost of Aegon’s House,” He said boldly and Daenerys could clearly imagine him as a daring Auror, catching dark wizards. 

“ Lucamore Strong?” gasped Robb between mouthfuls, “You mean Lucamore the Lusty?”

The Ghost looked angry. “I prefer Lucamore Strong.”

“What does lusty mean?” Sam asked.

Lucamore could clearly take no more and he glided away to talk to the ghost at the Visenya table who Dany noticed was a beautiful and sorrowful young woman. 

“What does lusty mean? Why did he get offended?” Sam repeated baffled.

Jon spoke in a low voice, checking over his shoulder to make sure that no prefect or professor would be able to hear, “Well, back in the days of Jaehaerys I, he ordered that no auror was allowed to be married because he didn’t want them to become distracted from their work. Lucamore Strong rather spectacularly broke that order. He was married to three women at the same time and fathered at least sixteen children. When Jaehaerys found out, he ordered the other aurors to curse off his...erm...private area.” 

“Is that why his tights are covered in blood?” Sam asked.

“Probably,” Jon said, “He was exiled afterwards but died shortly after he arrived in Mole’s town of an infection.”

“There are much better ways to die,” Robb winced. 

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the main courses vanished and pudding appeared. Lemon cakes, honey cakes, creme brulee, sticky toffee pudding, chocolate cake even ice cream and jelly. 

As Dany helped herself to a third serving of sticky toffee pudding, talk turned to their families. 

“We think I’m half and half.” Bella Waters said, “My mum’s a muggle but she remembers my father using magic. In fact, he was so magical that he disappeared and never came back.”

She let out a grim laugh. 

“Both my parents are muggles,” Sam said, “My Dad’s in the army. He was hoping to send me to one of those hard-core, take-no-prisoners military schools that they have in Essos but he had to settle for this instead.” 

The buxom seventh year had moved down the table and introduced herself as Arianne Martell before entering into a conversation with Dany about lessons. 

“It is never too early to think about your future, and the subject that you will need to succeed.” She told Dany passionately, “For instance, if you want to enter the ministry of magic you need at least seven STAGs and five RAVENs. But then what department are you in? What expertise do you need? All choices start now.” 

Dany, who was beginning to feel quite sleepy, nodded politely and looked at the high table again. Hodor was slurping noisily from a bucket-sized glass, Professor Tyrell was teasing Professor Selmy from the half-amused, half-exasperated expression on his face. Professor Royce was still staring vacantly at the ceiling but was being talked at by a small, slender man with a sharp, distrustful face and a short pointed, black beard which was threaded with silver. He noticed her looking and smiled at her. It wasn’t a friendly smile, it was one that suggested that the man knew the punchline to some awful joke about you.   
“Arianne, who’s that?” she asked, pointing at him

“Professor Baelish,” She replied scornfully, “He teaches potions, the slimy creep.” 

Jon raised his head to look for the man as well and then, very suddenly, clutched his heart. 

“What’s wrong?” Dany asked, alarmed. 

“Nothing, probably just heart-burn, eaten too much.” He said, rubbing his chest but he did not stop staring suspiciously at Baelish, even long after Baelish had turned and started snipping with Varys. 

At last, pudding was finished and everything vanished off the tables. Selmy rose once more to his feet. 

“Before I discharge you to your beds, there are a few announcements. First years should note that the King’s Wood is off-limits to all students. Older students should remember that as well.” 

Selmy looked sternly at Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell. 

“I have also been asked by Mr Frey to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch Trials will be held during the second week of term, anyone wishing to sign up for their house team should contact Madam Mormont. And finally, I must tell you that this year the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to all those who do not wish to greet the stranger sooner and more painfully than they expected. And now, bed, all of you.” 

“He’s not serious?” Dany asked Arianne as they followed her out of the hall, “What could be dangerous enough to keep us away from it, but safe enough to be in a school in the first place? 

“Selmy is an honourable man.” Arianne said, “If he does not wish for anyone to go down there, I would listen, at least until you know enough spells to save yourself.” 

“We just won’t go anywhere near it,” said Sam comfortingly 

The first years followed Arianne through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Dany was too sleepy to notice that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Arianne led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and she was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A large, semi-translucent, brightly coloured figure was hovering in mid-air. Its face and clothes were covered in motley and it was singing to itself.

“The shadows come to dance, my lord, dance my lord, dance my lord. The shadows come to stay, my lord, stay my lord, stay my lord.” 

“Patchface is a poltergeist.” whispered Arianne, “He’s usually harmless but if you’re not careful he’ll confuse you and send you the wrong way.” 

Then she turned back to the colourful floating figure, “Hello Patches,” she said coaxingly, “May we pass?” 

Patchface looked up at them all and smiled a child-like grin. Then he picked up three blackboard erasers and began to juggle with them, singing all the while. 

“Dance in the darkness one long day, long dark night for a fair light maid.” 

He continued singing and juggling. When he finally finished, Arianne began to clap and they quickly joined in. Patchface shook his belled hat at them and then swooped away through a blackboard. 

“Watch out for Patchface,” Arianne called, “When in doubt assume that he wants to perform and clap at the end. Here we are.” 

They arrived at last in front of an enormous portrait of an extremely beautiful and voluptuous woman whose painted bosom was bursting out of the very expensive black velvet dress she was wearing.

“Lady Barba,” Arianne greeted her.

“Password?” Lady Barba sniffed

“Zaldrīzes bartos” Arianne intoned and the portrait swung forward to reveal a magnificent common room. It was round with large stained glass windows every couple of metres, a roaring log fire and an assortment of majestic chaise longue and squashy armchairs. 

Dany bid goodnight to Robb and Jon at the bottom of the stairs and followed Arianne up to the girl’s dormitories. There were four large four-poster beds hung with crimson and black curtains. Her trunk and Quicksilver’s cage were safely stowed at the bottom of one of the beds. She scarcely glanced at her roommates Jonelle, Meera and Bella before she had flung herself into her four-poster bed and was fast asleep. 

In the boy’s dormitories, the set up was much the same except there were five beds instead of four. Jon and Robb took the two beds closest to the door allowing Sam to choose the bed next to Jon’s. Andrey Charlton and Josmyn Peckledon were left the two beds nearest the toilet. 

Robb rushed to open Florian’s cage and gave the cat a large piece of trout that he had saved from the feast. Jon saw that his owl, Ghost’s cage was empty and made a mental note to visit the owlery in the morning. 

“It was good food, wasn’t it?” Robb grinned as Florian cleaned his whiskers. 

Jon grinned at his cousin, changed into his pyjamas and clambered into bed. He was about to ask Robb if Aunt Catelyn was expecting an owl about the sorting ceremony when he fell fast asleep. 

He didn’t know if it was the large amount of cheese that he had eaten for dessert but his dreams were very strange. Professor Royce was staggering blankly towards him, his blue eyes boring into Jon’s soul and then the slippery Baelish was there, his smile still not meeting his eyes and he kept saying ‘cat’ all over again. Then there was a burst of green light and a high, cold, laugh and Jon woke his chest burning, sweat dripping down his face. 

He clutched his chest for a moment and then rolled over and fell back asleep. The next morning, he couldn’t remember the dream at all.


	8. The Potions Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plot is thickened and a potions master reveals his true colours.

“There look.”

“Where?”

“With the silver hair next to the broody kid.” 

“Do you think that she’d sign my bag?”

“Do you think that she remembers The Night King?”

Whispers followed Dany from the moment she left her dormitory. People lined up in the corridors to try and catch sight of her. Jonelle Cerwyn was no longer being spoken to after she tried to sell Dany’s leftover breakfast to autograph hunters. Jon and Robb scowled at anyone who stared at her for too long. Dany had decided that shrinking into her robes was the wrong way to go, instead, she plaited her hair every morning for added confidence and strode through the school like she was secure in belonging there. 

Her fame had one distinct advantage. Everywhere she went in school, there were students who were willing to stammer instructions on how to get to class. This was a huge relief. The castle had been built and rebuilt by a series of paranoid madmen, who had insisted on building a complex network of moving stairs, vanishing doorways and dozens of hidden passageways that hid themselves. You had to know where to tickle a suit of armour in the right place or answer a portrait’s riddle to reveal the short cut. 

The ghosts were no help either. The Maegor or Visenya ghosts would glide straight through you and although Lucamore and High Septon Martyn (the Rhaenys house ghost) would stop and try and give you directions they both got easily distracted (Lucamore by any female over the age of sixteen, Martyn by being goaded into delivering sermons). If you happened to encounter Patchface on your way to class, then he would cost you three moving staircases and a portrait riddle’s worth of time. If you applauded his performance either too early or too late, he would burst into tears and then throw everything within his reach at your head.

Even worse than that was the caretaker Mr Frey. He was prickly, judgemental and quick to bear a grudge. Dany, Jon and Robb had fallen foul of him on their second day. Frey had found them trying to cross the bridge between two of the towers and had refused to believe that they were not up to mischief and just trying to get to defence against the dark arts early. He was threatening to ram Robb’s head into one of the taxidermy animals when Professor Royce rescued them. 

Frey owned a rake-thin, balding cat called Emmonn. Emmonn had pale, watery eyes like his master. He patrolled the corridors alone wheezing and cowering behind statues whenever a teacher approached but if he saw a student break a rule then he would scramble away and Frey would hobble into sight moments later, his toothless mouth flapping as he moved. Frey guarded the corridors and passages like a gatekeeper and many students desperately wanted to lock Emmonn in a suit of armour. 

And then, once you’d managed to avoid Frey and Patchface, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic than just waving your wand and saying a few funny words. 

On Wednesday nights they had astronomy with Professor Luwin at the top of the tallest tower to observe the movement of the seven wanderers and the constellations. Three afternoons a week they had herbology with Professor Martell, a shapeless man with badly swollen hands and feet who taught from a wing-backed wheelchair. They learned about the different types of magical plants and the best way to care for foliage that crept, snapped and even barked at you. Easily the most boring class was history of magic where Professor Pycelle spluttered his way through the history of Westeros, coughing all over the first three rows and repeatedly getting distracted by rambling anecdotes about the famous people he had met. 

Professor Varys was an enigmatic teacher. Charms lessons were fascinating, and Varys took great pleasure in enchanting all their belongings and then had them debate the scientific laws that governed charmslore. 

Professor Tyrell was another kind of teacher entirely. Dany had been right to think that she was not a teacher you wanted to cross. She was fiercely intelligent with a razor-sharp wit and did not suffer foolish behaviour in her class. “Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous branches of magic. We are charged with changing the state of matter itself, animating inanimate objects and transforming living entities into immovable forms. Anyone who is foolish enough to mess around will find themselves permanently removed from my class.”  
Dany noticed that Professor Tyrell did not state how they would be permanently removed. 

They were all incredibly impressed when Professor Tyrell turned her desk into a rose bush and Meera’s pencil case into a lizard-lion. Sadly, when Professor Tyrell saw their eager faces she very quickly sniped, “And that is what you can look forward to being able to do…in seven years’ time.”  
She made them copy a series of increasingly complicated theoretical notes before she even allowed them to take out their wands. When they finally turned to practical work, Professor Tyrell gave them a candle each and got them to turn it into glass. By the end of the lesson, Jon was the only one who had succeeded in getting their candle to look anything like glass; Professor Tyrell showed the class how the candle had become transparent. “Whoever your father is, Snow,” she said wryly, “You’ve clearly inherited their talent for transfiguration. Your mother and uncle were both decidedly average.”

The class that everyone was immensely disappointed by was defence against the dark arts. Dany had been hoping that Varys’ warning about Royce was wrong. Sadly, the charms professor was entirely correct. Royce spent the entirety of their hour-long lesson staring blankly at the back wall of the classroom whilst delivering a non-stop lecture on the unicorns of Skagos. This should have been an interesting topic but Royce spoke in a dry monotone that made the topic deathly dull. 

Dany noticed halfway through the week that Sam Tarly looked to already be at the point of collapse. 

“Sam, just because your muggle-born that doesn’t mean that you’re behind anyone else. Robb and Jon have been in a magical household their entire lives, but they don’t know as much magical theory as you.”

“But I didn’t change the candle at all in Transfiguration.” Sam moaned, “Everyone already says that I don’t belong in the wizarding world. How can I prove them wrong if I can’t do a simple spell?” 

“Robb and I didn’t change our candles either.” Dany reminded him, “It’s only the first week. If you’re still struggling in a couple of weeks, worry then.” 

Friday was a very important day for the first years in Aegon’s house. They would have potions with Professor Baelish for the first time. 

“Keep an eye on Baelish.” Loras Tyrell warned them at breakfast, “He favours Maegor’s house and has a nasty habit of offering female students special ‘revision lessons.” 

“Wish Professor Tyrell favoured us,” Robb muttered. She was their head of house but it didn’t spare them from her verbal eviscerations.

“She does favour us.” Loras replied idly, “She’s just less obvious about it than Baelish.”

Just then, the post had arrived. Sam had been stunned the first morning when the swarm of owls had entered the great hall carrying an assortment of letters and parcels. Robb and Jon received letters from their family most days. Drawings from Rickon were the most common arrival but there had been a long letter and a large tin of lemon cakes following Robb’s letter home about the sorting ceremony. 

Quicksilver hadn’t brought Dany anything yet, but he swooped in every morning for a slice of bacon and a quick scratch behind the wing. This morning, however, he swooped in carrying a four-foot-long piece of parchment which bore two messages. The first written in an enormous eight-inch-high scrawl read ‘HODOR’. The second message underneath in a beautiful calligraphic hand read ‘Hodor would like to invite you to tea at four-o-clock this afternoon. Please reply if this time is suitable.’ 

Dany borrowed a quill from Sam and scribbled a quick message on the back of the parchment ‘Would love too. Robb and Jon coming with me. Thanks, Dany’ and sent Quicksilver off with the message and half a sausage. 

It was lucky that they had tea with Hodor to look forward to because despite the warnings from Arianne and Loras they could not have predicted the awfulness of potions. Arianne was right about the sleaziness. Baelish greeted all the girls with a possessive smirk and most of the boys with contemptuous indifference. Robb and Jon were the exceptions. He greeted them with an ugly smile and dangerous look of pure loathing in his eyes. 

Potions took place in the dungeons which, as Baelish gleefully informed them at the beginning of the lesson, began as Maegor’s torture chamber. The dungeons were cold and damp with gaudy gold and silver mockingbird statues decorating the room. 

“You are here to learn the intricate and subtle art of potion-making. A subtly I am sure will not come naturally for most of you.” He said scathingly, looking deliberately at Robb, Jon and Sam. Joffrey and Trant began sniggering. 

“This class will be your greatest challenge at this school. A challenge most of you will fail. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death…If you aren’t as woefully incompetent as most of the students who step foot in my classroom.” He smirked malevolently at them all. 

Silence followed this speech. Robb and Jon looked uncomfortably at each other, Sam had turned the colour of curdled milk and even Joffrey looked faintly nervous. Dany’s mind circled through everything she had read in Magical Draughts and Potions. She was not going to prove incompetent. 

“Stark,” Baelish sneered, “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

“The draught of living death, sir,” Robb replied sharply.

Baelish’s lips twitched. His slippery demeanour began to slip, and he was now openly glaring at Robb, 

“Very well, Stark. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?” 

“The stomach of a goat, sir. It’s an antidote against most common poisons.” Robb replied sharply. 

“Difference between monkshood and wolfsbane, then?”  


Robb finally seemed to be stumped, “I…I don’t know.” 

Baelish’s face morphed into a malevolently benign expression, “Pity,” Baelish sneered, “Clearly the great Eddard Stark didn’t teach you everything. Would anyone like to prove that they are not as woefully ignorant as Mr Stark?”

He gazed around clearly hoping that one of his precious Maegors would answer the question. 

However, the only hand that went up belonged to a clearly terrified Sam. Baelish utterly ignored him. 

“Not a good start to the year. No one able to answer a simple question that you would know the answer to if you had bothered to pick up a textbook before the start of term.”

“But Sam has his hand up.” Dany said hotly, “Why don’t you ask him?” 

“Ten points from Aegon for talking out of turn, Miss Targaryen. For your information, the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane is nothing. They are different names for the same plant. Another name would be aconite. It is a plant with many names but only one face. Copy that down.”

There was a rummaging of quills and parchment. Under the cover of the noise, Baelish bent down to Dany’s ear and whispered, “You may be the girl-who-lived, but if you ever question my authority in my own classroom ever again, there may be unintended consequences.”

Things did not improve as the Potions lesson continued. Baelish put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure red spots. Dany ended up working with Meera Reed. Baelish stalked the classroom, his heeled boots clapping the floor and his silver cape with mockingbirds embroidered on it smacking them as he passed. They weighed the gillyflower and silver moss whilst Baelish made derogatory comments. 

“Professor Baelish, mother wrote to me this morning to invite you to grandfather’s next social event.” Joffrey Lannister said smarmily. 

Shortly afterwards, Baelish invited everyone to view the ‘perfect’ way Joffrey had mashed his bloodflies. He was just about to elucidate on how Joffrey had skilfully stripped his black-bark when there was a loud explosion, a flash of green fire and a loud shriek. Sam and Josmyn Peckledon had somehow managed to melt their cauldron and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. The Hound roared and leapt up onto his stool. He was quickly followed by the rest of the class while Sam and Peck stood, stunned as red itchy spots erupted all over their bodies. 

“What happened?” Baelish snarled.

“I thought…” Sam stammered, “That adding a counter-clockwise turn would speed up the brewing process. I read about it in Modern Potion Making.” 

Baelish looked momentarily stunned before he rounded on Sam, “You thought that did you? And how long have you been a master potioneer?” 

Sam did not respond.

“Your arrogance, boy, could have killed us all. Fifty points from Aegon’s and a month’s detention. And Stark and Snow. Twenty points lost each for failing to stop him.” 

That was so unfair that Dany opened her mouth to object on their behalf but Meera kicked up sharply in the shin. 

“Choose your battles.” She whispered. 

Sam and Peck sheepishly staggered up to the hospital wing, Joffrey cat calling at their retreating backs.

As they climbed back up from the dungeons an hour later, Dany’s blood was boiling, and she spent the entire walk over to Hodor’s hut ranting about Baelish’ behaviour. Hodor lived in a large ramshackle building at the bottom of the grounds that was formerly a stable block. There was a large basket and a set of enormous boots outside the door.

“Hodor. Hodor. Hodor.” They heard an excited voice bellow. 

Hodor flung the door open and ushered them in. There was an enormous shadowcat lolloping on the bed and an exorbitant number of animal carcasses hanging from the ceiling. On the fire, a large copper kettle was bubbling merrily, and a large plum pudding was dangling in a pot of water. 

Hodor showed them to a collection of rough wooden chairs that were scattered around a large table. The shadowcat sauntered over to introduce itself and Hodor proudly pointed at the name tag around his neck which read Sygerrik. Despite the ferocious reputation of shadowcats, Sygerrik was a complete softy and very quickly decided that Robb was one of his favourite people, even attempting to curl up on his lap. 

“This is Robb and Jon,” Dany said. 

Hodor nodded happily and violently shook both their hands. 

They drank tea and gossiped about the first week of term. Hodor for possessing a single word vocabulary was surprisingly expressive and made his approval or disapproval clear for each member of staff that they mentioned. 

He growled with disgust when they mentioned Mr Frey and pointed at several long scratch marks down Sygerrik’s back that they inferred had been inflicted by Emmonn. 

“Dad told me that the old git has been here forever.” Robb said, “And he was just as prickly when Grandfather was at school.” 

Dany tried to tell Hodor about Baelish’s lesson, but Robb told her to leave it. 

“He’s friends with our Aunt Lysa. If we make the situation worse, it’ll be mum who suffers for it.” 

Yet Dany could feel that Jon and Robb were just as angry about the lesson as she was. She glanced down at the table and saw a scrap of newspaper. It was a cutting from the Daily Scroll.

IRON BANK BREAK-IN: IS OUR MONEY SAFE?

Reporter: Taena Merryweather

One month on from the shocking break-in at the Iron Bank, Westeros is no closer to discovering what actually happened at the once-trusted institution. Shortly after midday on July 31st of this year, there was a reported break-in at the financial heart of the wizarding world, although nothing was stolen and the vault in question had been emptied earlier that same day, apparently on the orders of Tycho, the goblin bank manager. 

“No one knows what was in there,” claims spokesgoblin H’ghar, “And even if it was known. It is not a goblin’s place to inform either the general public or nosy reporters.” 

“July 31st!” Dany gasped, “That was my birthday, maybe the break-in happened whilst we were there?”  
She scoured the newspaper again and read a familiar name again. “Tycho? That was the goblin that Professor Varys met with!”

Hodor snatched the scrap of newspaper off the table and shook his head. Hodoring over and over again. It was only when Robb changed the subject to his sister Arya’s latest misdemeanour that Hodor calmed down again. She pretended to listen to the story but all the while her mind was darting back to her visit to the Iron Bank. Varys had met with Tycho and he had stepped out of the office with a large curved object in a bag. Was that what the thief had been after?  
As they walked back to the castle, Jon and Robb staggering under the weight of the enormous plum pudding that Hodor had forced upon them, Dany realised that none of her lessons so far had proved anywhere near as exciting as the mystery of the empty bank vault and the curved object in Varys’ bag.


	9. The Midnight Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flying and Fleeing from Frey

Daenerys Targaryen had been raised by a jealous, paranoid psychopath but she did not think that even Viserys could make her feel as much loathing as Joffrey Lannister. Viserys had the excuse of being rejected from the family and then forced into poverty and deprivation. Dany could feel some pity for her brother mixed in with the anger, terror and hatred that he also inspired. Joffrey was just awful. He bragged constantly about his family’s wealth and his grandfather’s power and influence. Whenever a large parcel arrived from home, he took great pleasure in showing everyone the enormous pile of sweets, toys and rare magical objects that his mother sent him.

Joffrey, moreover, was a bully. Whilst Sam was his favourite target for his size, his clumsiness and his lack of practical abilities, anyone outside his small circle of friends was fair game. 

One crisp morning midway through their second week, a large sign was placed on the noticeboard informing them that flying lessons for first-year students would be taking place the following Friday. They were all incredibly excited until they read further down and discovered that Aegon and Maegor would be having their flying lessons together. 

“What moron thought that putting the two most combative houses together whilst their fifty-foot in the air was a good idea?” Jon said disbelievingly 

“Someone who likes chaos.” Dany replied bitingly, “Why do you think we have potions together?” 

Dany was feeling nervous. She loved the idea of flying, of soaring through the skies like a dragon but she had never been on a broom before in her life. She did not want her first time on a broom to be jeered at by Joffrey Lannister. 

Flying was Joffrey’s favourite topic to boast about that week. From the way that Joffrey told it he had been on a broomstick since the moment he could walk. “My mother says that I have the talent to be a professional Quidditch player,” He bragged. Then he turned bright red, “Not that Lannisters do that sort of thing.” His complaints about first years not being allowed broomsticks lost him ten points from Maegor at lunchtime on Thursday. He stropped for the rest of the afternoon until Margery Tyrell cooed at him to tell her about the time, he nearly hit an aeroplane again. Joffrey was not the only frequent flyer in the year. Jon and Robb both told a slightly unbelievable story about flying over the wall on a pair of Comet 360s and Peck told anyone who would listen that he had once hit two members of the Blackwater Basilisks Quidditch Team on a broom that had once belonged to Duncan Pennytree. Everyone who had been raised by wizards talked about Quidditch constantly and it had taken a supreme act of courage for Dany to turn to Jon that Saturday evening and ask,

“Sorry, what exactly is Quidditch?”

Robb had wheeled around in his chair and stared at her in awestruck horror.

“You don’t know what Quidditch is?” He said, aghast, 

“Viserys wasn’t exactly a font of knowledge about the wizarding world.” Daenerys bit back, “It wasn’t a topic he enjoyed talking about.”

Robb looked quite apologetic, “Well, it’s a sport. The best wizarding sport and it’s played on broomsticks.”

“There are seven players on a team.” Jon interjected, “And four balls. The quaffle, two bludgers and the snitch. The chasers pass the quaffle and try and score points in the other team’s goal. The keeper tries to keep the other team’s chasers from scoring.”

“The bludgers fly around the pitch smashing into everything,” Robb continued, “And the beaters try and keep them away with bats.” 

“Lastly, the golden snitch is this tiny ball. The seeker's job is to find and catch it. When the snitch gets caught the games over.” Jon concluded. 

Dany thought that it sounded overly complicated but at the same time, she desperately wanted to have a try. 

Sam, who had never been on a broomstick in his life, had taken all the books about flying, broomsticks and quidditch out of the library and seemed determined that flying could be learned theoretically. 

The morning of their flying lesson, for the first time that term, Sam received post. When the owl touched down next to his plate, he looked flabbergasted. Muttering something about his father not allowing letters, he tore open the package to reveal a small intricately decorated music box. He stared at it in wonder then slowly opened it to reveal a tiny china bear dancing with a beautiful porcelain lady. A slightly tinny rendition of ‘the bear and the maiden fair’ rang out across the great hall. 

When Sam closed the music box again, Dany noticed that his eyes were wet. Unfortunately, a passing Joffrey noticed too, and he snatched the music box out of Sam’s hand. 

“What are you blubbing over, Piggy?” Joffrey jeered, shaking the music box.

“Give it back, Joffrey.” Jon said in a low voice, “That’s Sam’s.” 

Dany and Robb rose to their feet, daring Joffrey to start a fight. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for a witch who frequently claimed during lessons to be hard of hearing, Professor Tyrell could detect trouble faster than any other teacher in King’s Landing (Dany suspected that Varys and Baelish could actually spot it faster but the former preferred to see how a situation played out and the latter enjoyed the chaos). 

“How lovely to see you making friends outside your own house, Joffrey.” 

Joffrey flushed and his voice contorted into an ugly scowl, “I was just looking at it” 

He slammed the music box back on the table and stalked off, Trant and the Hound following him. 

When she was certain that Joffrey was well out of earshot, she turned to Sam, “Who sent you the music box Sam?”

“My mother,” Sam sniffed, “She used to play it every night to help me sleep until my father told her that I was too grown-up for music boxes.”

At three o’clock that afternoon they made their way down a set of smooth sandstone steps to a large stone platform that was carved out of the rock face. As they approached it, Dany noticed that the platform had been covered in a smooth mossy lawn. A short, stout, grey-haired woman stood purposefully at one end of the platform. 

“Right then you sorry lot,” Madame Mormont said gruffly, “Step forward and select a broom. Hurry up!” 

Dany had heard from Loras that the school brooms were ancient, falling-apart and tended to fly to the left. Her, Jon and Robb made a concerted effort to choose brooms that looked less decrepit. Joffrey had a similar idea because he glared at his second cousin, Tyrek until he gave up a broom that barely had any twigs sticking out at odd angles. 

Dany’s broom had peeling paint and a general sense of being poorly used but it was in decidedly better condition than many of the other brooms. 

“Stick your wand arm over your broom” Madam Mormont commanded, “and say up.” 

Dany’s broom soared into her hand, beside her she saw that Jon’s had risen just as quickly but they were the minority. Sam’s broom had actively rolled away from him and Jonelle Cerwyn’s refused to move. 

Madam Mormont showed them out to mount their brooms without sliding off the end and then she moved around correcting their grips. Mormont tried to tell Joffrey that his grip was wrong but he loftily replied, “Mother has had Aron Santagar, former chaser for the Sunspear Serpents, train me since I was four and he says that there isn’t a uniform grip.”

Madam Mormont scowled and marched away to correct Sam’s stance for the ninth time.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Mormont. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three -- two--"

But Sam’s broom had had enough. It detected how terrified the large boy was and had decided that it would rather get the experience over and done with. It rose angrily into the air before the whistle had touched Madam Mormont’s lips. 

“Get back here this second!” She bellowed but Sam was rising straight up like an over-indulged owl—twelve feet – twenty feet. Dany saw his pale round moon-like face screw up in terror and sweat ran from his sausage-like fingers, causing him to lose his grip, let out a high-pitched shriek and slip sideways off the broom and --

WHAM – a thud and a nasty crack and Sam lay facedown on the platform, an unmoving lump in the grass. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily out to sea. 

Madam Mormont kneeled grimly over Sam. 

“Two broken wrists and a nasty concussion.” Dany heard her mutter, “Mobilicorpus” 

Sam’s prone form rose a foot in the air. 

Madam Mormont turned to the rest of the class, “None of you is to move whilst I take this poor boy to the hospital wing. You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out King’s Landing before you can say Quidditch.” 

She turned away and, levitating Sam in front of her, she marched away. 

No sooner were they out of sight Joffrey began to snigger. 

“Did you see that fat pigs face?” 

“Shut up Joffrey,” Jon said

“Sticking up for Tarly are you Snow?” Margery Tyrell said slyly, “I’m sure that Tarly will be delighted to know that he has a knight in shining armour.” 

Joffrey’s wormy lips contorted into a cruel smile as he bent to the ground, “Look at what the fat lump dropped. It’s that music box he was blubbing over this morning.” 

The music box blasted out its tinny tune as Joffrey crammed it open. 

“Give it back, Joffrey,” Dany commanded. 

“Now,” Jon added.

Joffrey smirked maliciously and considered them carefully. “And who’s going to make me? I think I would rather leave it somewhere for Piggy to find…How about up a tree?” 

“Give it here!” Dany roared but Joffrey was already in the air. He hadn’t been lying, he could fly well but the moment he rose above the top line of trees, he grew visibly shaken. 

Dany grabbed her broom.

“No” bellowed Meera Reed, “You heard Madam Mormont, Joffrey isn’t worth getting expelled over.” 

Dany ignored her. The time for waiting was over. She mounted her broom and kicked off. Instantly she knew that this was what she had been born to do. The wind rushed through her hair and her heartfelt as if it was about to burst with excitement. She heard a gasp of amazement from the crowd below. 

She turned her broomstick around to face Joffrey. Joffrey looked as though he was going to shit himself. 

“Give the music box here.” Dany called, “Or I’ll knock you out of the sky.”

“My mother…” Joffrey began to say but he lost his grip on the music box and it dropped towards the ground. 

Dany knew, somehow, exactly what to do. She leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, soaring exhilaratingly fast towards the ground. The wind whistled in her ears. Barely three metres off the ground, she stretched out her arm and caught it. Beaming triumphantly, she hovered straight over the ground for a moment and then touched down. Robb and Jon dashed towards her, Robb grinning broadly, and Jon seemingly torn between smiling and chastising her.   
“When I realised that Madam Mormont had left a group of first years in charge of themselves, I assumed that at least one of you would be stupid enough to disobey direct instructions but I did not imagine that Daenerys Targaryen was such a fool.” 

They wheeled around in horror to see Professor Tyrell standing there with a furious expression on her face. 

Her heart dropped faster than a speeding broomstick. 

“Such foolishness…I never thought…ever again…” Professor Tyrell had been struck almost speechless in fury, “I never imagined that Rhaella Targaryen’s daughter would be so foolhardy. You could have broken your neck.” 

“It wasn’t her fault, Professor,” Robb said earnestly 

“Mr Stark, I am not interested in any foolish excuses.”

“But Joffrey…”

“That’s enough, Mr Snow. Miss Targaryen, kindly follow me.” Professor Tyrell said sternly. 

Dany caught sight of Joffrey’s shaken but satisfied smirk as Professor Tyrell dragged her away. She was going to be expelled she knew it, Tyrell was going to march her up to the dormitories to pack. She was going to be sent away from King’s Landing. Maybe they’d let her stay with Masha Heddle again and work at The Clanking Dragon rather than shipping her back to Viserys. 

Professor Tyrell guided her back up the sandstone stairs, along a dark passageway, through the entrance hall and along the corridor until they reached the familiar door of the charms classroom. 

“Excuse me Professor Varys, could I borrow Loras a moment?” 

Loras? Why did she want Loras? 

Loras strode arrogantly out of the classroom. 

“Follow me you two,” Tyrell instructed. 

They travelled along the corridor to an empty classroom, Loras shooting her conspiratorial glances. Dany’s heart was in her stomach as Professor Tyrell stopped and turned to face them. 

“Loras, I’ve found you a seeker. Never say that your grandmother doesn’t give you anything.” She said drily.

“A seeker?” Loras asked curiously, “So this is your answer, Grandmother, for my request for an extra night of Quidditch try-outs.”

“Indeed,” Professor Tyrell replied, “She’s a natural. I’ve not seen such incredible flying since…” She paused and a pained expression came to her face, “Well for quite some time. Was today your first time on a broomstick, Targaryen?” 

“Yes,” She replied nervously.

“She caught that Tarly boy’s dratted music box from a fifty-feet dive. Not a scratch on her, I doubt even you could have done it, Loras.”

Loras looked a mixture of deeply offended and incredibly excited. 

“I’m the captain and keeper of the Aegon Quidditch team. You’re just the right build for a seeker too. Light and speedy. We’ll have to make sure that we get you a decent broom, Dany. A Red Comet 300 or an Iron Fleet 7 at the very least.”

“I shall speak to Professor Selmy, see if we can bend the first-year rule. Although, after the last time…” She scowled, “Father only knows that we need a decent team this year. We were absolutely flattened by Maegor. I couldn’t be in the same room as Petyr Baelish for a month without trying to curse the self-satisfied smirk of his face.” 

Professor Tyrell glared sternly at Dany. “Train hard Targaryen, do not make me regret bending the rules for you.” 

Then she smiled, “Your brother was a mediocre chaser but an excellent Quidditch captain. He would be proud of you.” 

“Bloody hell!” Robb said when she told him and Jon what had happened at dinner that evening. Jon was so busy staring at her that a piece of gammon dropped off his fork on to the floor. 

“Seeker?” Robb said excitedly, “But there hasn’t been a first-year seeker since...”

“There hasn’t been a first-year seeker in twenty years,” Jon said firmly, cutting across his cousin. 

“Loras told me that I’m the youngest seeker in a century,” Dany said proudly, shoving a large piece of chocolate cake into her mouth. 

Robb grinned in amazement at her, but Jon seemed more cautious. 

“Anyway,” Dany said obliviously, “Training starts next week. Loras and Professor Tyrell told me not to tell anyone.” 

Nymeria, Sarella and Tyene Sand, Arianne Martell’s cousins, who were both third years approached them secretively. 

“Congratulations.” Tyene said softly, “Loras told us.”

“We’re on the team too.” Nymeria said bluntly, “Chasers. Our eldest sister Obara was a beater last year before she left. Quidditch is in our blood. I hope that you are as good as Loras says you are.” 

Sarella was glancing curiously at Dany, “Was that really your first time on a broom?” 

Dany nodded and the three sisters looked speculatively at each other. 

“We’ll ensure that Harrion and Torren know to look out for you.” Nymeria said, “We can’t have any of the jerks from Maegor’s attacking you.” 

The Sand Sisters had scarcely disappeared when Joffrey slithered towards them. 

“Having a last meal, Targaryen? I would have thought that they’d have shipped you back to your beloved squib brother by now?” He sneered. 

“How are you feeling now Joffrey?” Dany snapped back, “Last time I saw you, I thought that you were going to have an accident in mid-air.” 

Joffrey flushed bright red. The Hound let out a bark of laughter but Trant rolled up his sleeves menacingly. 

“Think your so brave, Targaryen? I’ll duel you anytime, anyplace.” He smirked, “How about a wizard’s duel? If you know what that is, of course.”

“Of course, I do.” Dany replied, jutting her chin out, “Jon’s my second, who’s yours?” 

Without hesitating, Joffrey said, “The Hound. Midnight then, outside the trophy room.” 

When Joffrey had gone, Dany turned to Jon. 

“You don’t mind being my second do you?” 

Jon sighed, “I’m not thrilled about it but at least the worst you and Joffrey are going to be able to do is send sparks at each other.” 

“Yeah,” Robb added, “And when in doubt, throw your wand away and punch him on the nose.” 

From further along the table, Meera Reed let out an indignant snort. 

“What now, Meera?” Dany demanded, “Going to stop us?”

“What’s the point?” Meera said faux-serenely, “You’ll just do it anyway. I’m sure that Professor Tyrell will be thrilled that you’ve broken another school rule less than a day after she bent the rules for you. 

Dany glared at her and turned her back. 

All the same, Meera’s words floated around her mind as she tried to get to sleep that night. Jonelle and Bella dropped swiftly to sleep, Bella’s snuffly snores echoing around the room. Jon and Robb had spent the evening giving her varyingly helpful pieces of advice.  
“Insult his mother,” Jon said, “He’s sensitive about it so he’ll get distracted.”   
“If he tries to curse you,” Robb added, “Duck because I can’t remember how to block.”   
There was a very good chance that Frey or Emmonn were going to catch them and Dany had to admit that Meera had a good point, she was pushing her luck but she desperately wanted to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off Joffrey Lannister’s smug, pouty face. 

At half-past eleven, she stood up, checked that Meera was asleep, pulled on her dressing gown and crept down the stairs to the common room. Robb and Jon were already waiting. Robb was pacing in anticipation and Jon was gnawing on his thumbnail. They had reached the other side of Lady Barba’s portrait when Robb stepped on something large and squashy that let out a loud moan. 

“Sam?” Jon said in disbelief.

“Jon? Dany? Robb? I’m so happy to see you,” Sam blathered, “I’ve been out here for hours. Lady Barba’s changed the password again.”

“Keep the noise down, Sam.” Dany hissed, “The passwords Missy’s Teats. How are you feeling?”

Sam looked at them baffled, “Fine. Maester Ebrose fixed me in an instance. What are you doing outside of the common room?” 

They hesitated. 

“You’re sneaking out somewhere!” Sam said in horror, “But…but…that’s against the rules. You’ll get into trouble. You’ll get yourselves killed or…expelled.” 

“We’ve told you the password, Sam. You don’t have to come with us.”

Sam sniffed violently, “No, someone has to come with you to keep you out of trouble.” 

Dany, Robb and Jon looked at each other. Sam was clumsy and cowardly but if he told anyone…”

“Fine.” Dany said finally, “But if you tell anyone I’ll use the curse of the bogies that Royce mentioned.” 

Sam shrank but nodded. They stumbled along the corridors at every turn expecting to see Frey or Emmonn. They were lucky, they sped along up the stairs to the third floor and the trophy room. 

Joffrey and the Hound weren’t there yet. The antique shields and trophies glinted in the moonlight sending an eerie spotlight on the rows and rows of dragon skulls. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the door. Sam whimpered every couple of minutes. They took out their wands in case Joffrey tried to jump them. The minutes ticked steadily by. 

“He’s not coming is he.” Said Robb weakly. 

Then a noise in the next room startled them. 

“Sniff around you mangy, useless creature. Lannister was very clear that they would be around here.” 

They froze. It was Frey and Emmonn. Dany waved frantically at the other three and they sneaked, petrified, down a long gallery full of armour. They could hear Frey getting closer and closer. Sam’s head darted back and forth in terror, so agitated that he accidentally walked into a suit of armour and sent it clattering to the floor. 

The resulting crash was enough to wake the whole castle. 

“Run!” Robb yelled and the four of them sprinted through the corridors, not looking back to see whether Frey was catching up with them. Dany, in the lead, had no idea of which way they were going. Finally, they tore through a tapestry and hurtled down a secret passageway into the empty Charms classroom.

“I think…” Robb panted, “That we lost them.”

Sam was bent double and dripping with sweat.   
“If Meera says I told you so tomorrow morning.” Dany gasped.

“We’ve got to get back to the common room as quickly as possible,” Jon said slumped against a desk.

“Joffrey tricked us.” Dany spat, “He knew that we would come and blabbed to Frey on us.”

Robb scowled, “We’ll deal with Joffrey later. We need to get back to bed now.”

It wasn’t going to be so simple. They had barely gone ten paces when something came shooting towards them. 

It was Patchface who saw them, beamed, let out a giggle of delight and began to sing.

“Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool.” 

“We don’t have time for this now, Patchface,” Dany hissed, “Please let us past.”

Patchface swelled indignantly and began singing again even louder,

“SIX MAIDS THERE WERE IN A SPRING-FED POOL.”

“Patchface, please,” Jon begged. 

Patchface grew upset and burst into a flood of noisy tears. They heard the tell-tale sound of Frey’s hobbled footsteps getting ever closer. 

They ducked under Patchface and dashed to the very end of the corridor and slammed into a door, it was locked. 

“This is it,” Sam moaned, as he slumped to the floor, “We’re in so much trouble.”

They could hear Frey rushing towards the sound of Patchface’s bawling. 

“Move over,” Jon said urgently, “Uncle Ned uses this spell to break into the biscuit cupboard when Aunt Catelyn’s back is turned.”

Dany privately thought that now was not the time to be testing out spells for the first time. 

“Alohomora,” John whispered and the door swung open. They scrambled through the door, dragging Sam and closed the door behind them. Dany pressed her ear to the keyhole. 

“Patchface. Where did the little shits go?” 

“The crow, the crow. Under the sea the crows are white as snow, I know, I know, oh, oh, oh” sang Patchface.

Frey grunted with annoyance and then began applauding, “Yes, yes, very good. Where did the children go?” 

“The crow, the crow. Under the sea the crows are white as snow, I know, I know, oh, oh, oh” sang Patchface again. 

Frey made a disgusted noise and hobbled away muttering to Emmonn as he went. The sound of Patchface singing drifted further and further away. Dany, Robb and Jon let out a sigh of relief. 

"He thinks this door is locked," Jon whispered. "We should be alright now…Sam, you can let go now.” 

Sam, who had been tugging at Jon’s sleeve for the past minute, let out a frightened whimper. They wheeled around to see six enormous pairs of eyes, five amber and one red glaring at them. Professor Selmy’s warning about the third-floor corridor had been entirely accurate. The Stranger’s arrival seemed imminent. 

In front of them was an enormous direwolf. Its body was a mottled grey, four of its heads were grey, one pure white and one darkest black. 

For a moment, Dany thought that they had walked into their worst nightmare yet but then, Robb flung his arms around the enormous canine. 

“Good boy, who’s a good boy,” Robb said soothingly, rubbing its belly.

“Robb?” Dany questioned, “What are you doing?” 

“It’s a six-headed direwolf,” Robb whispered, “How often do you get to meet a six-headed direwolf?” 

With Robb’s encouragement, Jon made friends with the pure white head and Dany reluctantly scratched the smallest grey head behind the ears. Sam stayed pressed against the door and refused to move. By half-past three in the morning each head had acquired a name and Robb had promised the creature that he would be back soon to pet it. 

They hurried back down the corridor hoping that they were correct that Frey had gone back to bed. They didn’t stop running until they were back the other side of Lady Barbra’s portrait. 

“You’re all mad!” Sam gasped, “Petting that thing!”

“Ghost, Greywind, Nymeria, Lady, Summer and Shaggydog are not a thing.” Robb said sternly, “They’re unique.”

“And could rip our arms off if they wanted to.” Sam replied, “I’m going to bed before you get into any more trouble.” 

They watched him waddle up the stairs before they sank into armchairs. 

“That was madness,” Jon murmured.

“Remind me to kill, Joffrey,” Dany growled

“What do you think they're doing keeping that poor creature locked up in a school?” Robb asked. 

“Do you see the trapdoor it was standing on?” Jon said, “It’s clearly guarding something?” 

They staggered up to bed shortly afterwards, but Dany couldn’t sleep, her mind was buzzing with everything that had happened. There was an enormous six-headed dog in the school and Professor Selmy had set it guarding something. As Dany lay in bed she knew beyond any doubt that she had discovered where the curved package from the Iron Bank was hidden.


	10. The Feast of the Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers are tested and friendships are forged.

Joffrey’s expression when he saw them striding into breakfast nearly made up for the terror of the previous night. Meera had jabbed Dany awake after far too little sleep in order to say “I told you so”. Dany, Robb and Jon thought that they had had an excellent adventure and were already planning return visits to the direwolf. Sam on the other hand kept shooting them frightened, suspicious looks and had a habit of entering the room any time they tried to discuss the trapdoor or the object that it hid. 

“It’s either really dangerous or really valuable.” Robb surmised.

“Or both,” Jon added.

But all they knew was that the object was about a metre long and curved and without any further clues, the mystery was wide open. 

As owls soared into the Great Hall, everyone’s attention was drawn to the long, thin package carried by seven large barn owls. Dany was just as interested as everyone else to see what this large parcel was and was amazed when the owls dropped the package on her lap. The owls had barely flown away when another owl dropped a letter on her head. 

Loras dropped into the seat next to her. “Grandmother says that you need to open the letter first.” He said in a low voice. 

She tore the letter open. 

Unless you want to incite a riot, do not open the package at the table. 

It contains your new Red Comet 7. Before you ask, the money came from your own vault. We don’t buy broomsticks for individual students. It was decided that owl order was easier than dragging you back to Eel Alley. Do not tell anyone else that you have this, or every student will be knocking on my office door demanding a broomstick as well. Loras will meet you on the Quidditch Pitch at seven o’clock tonight for your first training session. Do not be late. 

Professor Tyrell 

Dany grinned broadly and passed the note to Robb and Jon.

“A Red Comet 7?” Robb moaned, “I’ve been begging my mum for one all year!” 

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick before their first class but they bumped into Joffrey on their way out of the hall. 

“That’s a broomstick.” Joffrey snapped, “First years aren’t allowed them. You’re sure to be expelled this time Targaryen.”

Robb burst into a gleeful smile, “It’s not just any broomstick. It’s a Red Comet 7. What broomstick do you have, Lannister, a Brimstone 12 isn’t it? Just like you, all appearance, no substance.” 

Joffrey’s expression turned ugly but before he could retort, Varys glided into sight. 

“Not arguing I hope? It would be a shame to have to put six students in detention before nine o’clock.”

“Targaryen’s been sent a broom Professor.” Joffrey whinged. 

“Ah yes,” Varys said smoothly, “Professor Tyrell informed me of the special circumstances. I believe that Miss Targaryen has you to thank Mr Lannister for her good fortune.” 

Joffrey’s face turned to stone and he stormed away, no doubt to write an enraged letter to his mother. 

Dany, Robb and Jon ran upstairs not even bothering to hide their laughter.   
“Well, it is true.” Jon grinned, “If Joffrey hadn’t stolen Sam’s music box you wouldn’t be on the team.”

For the rest of the day, Dany’s mind kept drifting back to the broomstick waiting upstairs on her bed and wondered if Professor Martell would mind if she skipped Herbology to stare at her broom instead. They didn’t even bother to sit down to dinner that evening, they stuffed a handful of oatcakes and a large lump of cheese into their pockets and dashed upstairs to the common room to unwrap the broomstick.

Dany carefully brought the package down to the common room and opened it with a reverence usually owed to religious artefacts. 

Robb and Jon let out audible gasps of adulation. Dany’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at the beautifully crafted object before her. It was sleek and shiny with a handle made of red cherry, a long tail of neat, straight twigs and gold lettering embossed on the top that read Red Comet 7. 

Dany practically skipped down to Quidditch Pitch at half-past six. She had never seen a Quidditch stadium before and her first impression was that whoever had invented the sport had clearly had a few screws loose. There were three tiny hoops at either end of the field that reminded Dany of the end of one of Darry the House Elf’s kitchen skewers. There were hundreds of seats surrounding the pitch and Dany realised that whatever she did on the Quidditch pitch was going to be visible to the entire school. 

Too excited to wait for Loras, who according to Renly was highly likely to be late anyway, she soared into the air. Her second time on a broomstick was just as exhilarating as the first and she wondered if this was what it felt like to ride a dragon. She rose ever higher into the air, performing a series of dizzying corkscrews. 

“Very nice!” 

She swerved in mid-air and saw that Loras was standing on the ground below her levitating a large crate in front of him. Dany drove her broom into a dive and touched down gracefully next to him. 

“Grandmother was telling the truth.” Loras said gleefully, “You really are a natural flyer. Now I’ll just go over the rules tonight and then you’ll be joining practise three nights a week with the rest of the team.” 

He opened the crate revealing four balls. 

“So,” Loras enthused, “The rules are simple enough to understand but what really matters is how you use them in play. Seven players. Three chasers, you’ve already met Nymeria, Tyene and Sarella. Their job is to throw the quaffle to each other and pass it through one of the hoops to score a goal.” He pointed at a red ball which was about the same size as her head, “There are ten points awarded for each goal. Understand?”

“Seven players, three chasers, ten points every time the quaffle goes through the goal.” Dany recited. 

“Good. Now the keeper, which is yours truly, has to stop the other team’s chasers from scoring. If the keeper doesn’t do their job properly then your chances of winning are dire.” 

Dany thought that it sounded as though keeper had not been Loras’ first choice of position but he had been told often enough that it was where he was best that he was now resigned to it. 

“And are they the bludgers?” She asked pointing at two black metallic balls that were about the same size and shape as a turnip. They were wrestling to escape the straps that were keeping them in the box. 

“Yes,” Loras said, sounding impressed, “Do you want to see them in action?” 

Without allowing Dany time to confirm, he handed her a wooden bat and undid the straps on one of the bludgers. 

At once the bludger rocketed twenty-foot into the air and came smashing back down towards her. Swearing furiously, she slammed the bat into the projectile and sent it cartwheeling away. Undeterred the bludger swerved and redirected its flight path towards Loras. Without batting an eyelid Loras charmed the bludger to glide gently back into its container. 

“Of course,” He sighed, “We can’t do that in an actual match, but you can see why we need beaters to keep the of the team safe and to send the bludgers towards the other team. Torren and Harrion are brilliant. The worst anyone on our team has ever had is a broken jaw.”

Loras reached into the crate and pulled out a small golden ball. It was about the size of a walnut with tiny silver wings which fluttered frantically in Loras’ hand. 

“This is the golden snitch and it’s the most important ball on the pitch,” He said wistfully, “It’s damned hard to catch because it’s so small and fast. The seeker’s only job on the pitch is to find and catch it before the other team’s seeker. Once the snitch is caught, the game is over and the team who caught the snitch get 150 extra points, which is usually the difference between victory and defeat.”

“What happens if no one catches the snitch?” Dany asked

Loras shrugged, “The game continues until the snitch is found or one of the teams forfeits. Longest match on record is three months.”  
A sudden thought occurred to Dany, “If catching the snitch wins the game, there’s always a target on the seeker’s back.”

“Pretty much.” Loras shrugged, “But if you’re fast and clever and trust the rest of the team to do their jobs, you’ll be fine.” 

He then produced a bag of flightless balls, about the same size as the snitch from his pocket and began chucking them at Dany, first on the ground and then in mid-air. Dany didn’t miss a single one and Loras was begrudgingly delighted.

“The Quidditch cup has got our names on it this year.” Loras said triumphantly, “Poor Renly will have to settle for being a prefect next year.”

Dany soon realised that the whirlwind of classes and Quidditch practice was causing time to spiral faster and faster and soon she had been at King’s Landing for nearly two months. The castle felt more like home than Summerhall ever had and Robb and Jon were quickly supplanting Viserys’ as her family. Although Dany could still not match up to Jon’s natural flair for transfiguration, she was holding her own in lessons and thriving in charms. 

When she and Jon woke on what they had collectively agreed was the single worst night in the calendar, the smell of pigeon pie was wafting throughout the entire school. The Festival of the Stranger, the anniversary of the deaths of Dany’s family and Jon’s mother, was the least celebrated of the seven’s festivals but was still an excuse at King’s Landing for an enormous feast and an afternoon off. 

In charms, Professor Varys delivered supposedly the good news that they were ready to start making objects fly. Both Dany and Jon were in a foul mood and even Varys’ reprisal demonstration of the levitation charm on Hill the toad were not enough to rouse any enthusiasm out of either of them. 

Dany and Robb were partnered for the lesson. Thankfully for Dany, Robb was sufficiently adept at charms that she was able to half-heartedly send her quill soaring in the air whenever Varys was looking without being too concerned about anything blowing up. 

Jon had found himself working with Sam. Most days Jon’s patience and sense of honour were enough to guard against resorting to the cruel taunts that had been flung at Sam most of his life but today the raw wounds of Lyanna’s death were too great and every word that came out of Sam’s mouth became a slight. 

“I thought that you’d be good at charms, Jon.” Sam said tactlessly, “You always find transfiguration so easy. Was your mother good at charms?”

“I don’t know, Sam,” Jon said tersely. 

“Why not?” Sam continued

“My uncle doesn’t like talking about her and neither do I.” 

Jon turned away from Sam and cast “Wingardium Leviosa” sending the weather drifting lazily into the air. 

Sam swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. He prodded it with his wand and set fire to it – Varys cast a quick aguamenti charm and put it out.

“That was a less than impressive effort Mr Tarly. May I suggest that for homework you spend less time researching the advance theory of enchantment and applied yourself to practical wandwork.” Varys cautioned and glided away.

Sam was red-faced and looked to be on the verge of tears.   
“Jon?” He asked.   
No response. He tried again, “Jon.”

Nothing. He began tugging on Jon’s sleeve. “Do you think, Jon, that you could help me tonight after dinner? You, Robb and Dany always help me…”

Jon’s temper got the better of him. “Yes, Sam. We always help you, but I don’t know why we bother. You’ve got no idea how to cast an actual spell.”

“I thought we were friends…” Sam whimpered. 

“No, Sam. We’re not your friends we just feel sorry for you. Sorry that you’re a pathetic coward who probably shouldn’t be here anyway. Go home to your precious Mother whilst you’ve got the chance.” Jon bit. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam mumbled and he rose and waddled out of sight, tears streaming down his face.

Dany glanced around to check that Varys wasn’t anywhere near them and then slid over to Jon. “What happened?” She demanded

Jon looked uncomfortable, “I lost my temper, but he had to know that he’s not got any real friends.” 

“I think he does know.” Robb interjected, “But he just hoped that we wouldn’t be the ones to tell him.” 

Sam was not there in History of Magic and wasn’t seen all afternoon. They wandered guilty around the castle trying to find him. It was with a gnawing feeling in their stomachs that they traipsed into the hall that dinner time. As they sat down, Arianne Martell clouted Jon on the arm, “You utter moron. You do know that Tarly has been crying in the toilets all afternoon.” She said sternly. 

“If you care, why aren’t you comforting him?” Jon replied defensively. 

“I tried.” She rolled her eyes, “But he won’t come out and my responsibilities as Head Girl don’t include stunning upset first years. Make sure that you patch things up with him by tomorrow or I’ll refer this on to Professor Tyrell.” 

With that, she stormed away to sit with her friends in Seventh year. 

Despite their gloomy mood, Dany could still appreciate the effort that had been made to decorate the great hall. Lanterns and skulls were hung from the rafters and a colossal pigeon pie took up most of the high table. 

As Dany was just about to morosely stab her fork into a large piece of steak, the door to the great hall opened and Professor Royce shambled in, blood dripping down his robes from a gash to his head and his robes askew. The hall dropped to a dead silence as Selmy rose from his chair. 

“Waymar? What has happened?” Selmy demanded.

“Troll. In the dungeons.” Royce murmured before he slumped forwards. 

There was an instant uproar. Students leaping from the benches, stuffing food in their robe pockets, screaming and shoving each other. There was an enormous bang and the hall stopped, stunned. 

“Panicking will not benefit anyone.” Selmy said sternly, “Prefects, line your students up and escort them in an orderly manner back to their common rooms.”

Across the great hall, Dany distinctly heard Joffrey horrified cry, “But our common room is in the dungeons.” A burly seventh year named Mandon Moore threw Joffrey over his shoulder and hauled him out of the room. 

Arianne stood on the top of the table and bellowed, “Aegon! Follow me!” 

Sparks flew from her wand, illuminating her from a distance her sub-five foot frame did not allow.

“How could a troll get in?” Dany asked as they climbed the stairs.  
“No clue.” Robb replied, “Weird though. Trolls are incredibly stupid, and this is a virtually impregnable castle.”

“Someone’s let it in then.” Dany said darkly, “Fantastic.”

Arianne had just led them past a frantic group of Visenya students who had clearly been studying in the library when Jon grabbed Dany’s arm. 

“Stop.” He whispered and pulled her and Robb behind a tapestry of Baelor the Blessed trying to convert Yetis to the faith of the seven.

“What?” Robb hissed.

“It’s Sam. He doesn’t know about the troll.” 

They stared at each other then Dany said slowly, “Well we had best find him then. Third-floor boys’ toilets?”

They slipped through the empty corridors, hiding behind suits of armour every time they heard footsteps behind them. They had just turned the corner before the boys’ bathroom when Robb forced them both behind a griffin statue. 

Barely ten metres ahead of them Professors Baelish and Varys were having a heated debate in furtive whispers. The normally unflappable Varys was dogging Baelish’s every move, and the slippery potions professor was snapping at him. They bickered out of sight, disappearing down the right-hand corridor. 

“What are they doing?” Dany muttered, “Why aren’t they down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?”

Jon shrugged but his eyes were fixed on the distant corner that Baelish had disappeared around. 

Robb grew impatient, “We’re here for Sam remember.” 

Robb marched them both down the left-hand corridor before he stopped in front of the door to the boys’ toilets. Dany had never been down here before. There was a strong smell of urine and general misuse. Dany hung back. 

“Dany, you’re coming in too,” Jon said.

“No, I’m not,” she replied indignantly, “This is a boys toilet.”

“What if Varys and Baelish come back and you’re lurking outside?”  
Reluctantly, Dany followed them into the bathroom. The smell was worse now. Crumpled up pieces of once soggy toilet roll had been thrown onto the ceiling and she had to step carefully to avoid puddles that she had a horrible feeling were not water. A row of ancient urinals dominated the right-hand wall and there was graffiti scrawled everywhere: ‘RT+EM’, ‘Cersei will screw anyone with a functioning wand’, ‘Bobby B was here 275’ and ‘Dornish men go down south’ with a red snake drawn crudely next to it. 

From behind one of the splintering cubical doors, there was a loud sniff. 

Jon knocked, “Sam, I’m really sorry about what I said.”

“It’s true though isn’t it,” Sam replied, “I don’t have any friends.” 

Jon’s face screwed up in frustration, “Sam, there isn’t time for this now. There’s a troll loose in the school. We need to go.” 

As Sam reluctantly unlocked the door, another door opened. A scent of mouldy socks intermingled with soggy nappies permeated the room. They wheeled around and realised to their horror that something enormous was towering in the doorway to the toilets. 

It was easily twelve feet tall with leathery grey skin. Its enormous lumpy body was topped with a head that was five-sizes-too-small. In its humungous shovel-like hand was a gigantic wooden club. 

It peered blearily around the room, its long ears waggled back and forth as it tried to decide whether or not to come in. 

The four first years were frozen on the spot, desperately hoping that it would decide that there was no one in the toilets. 

A wad of toilet roll dropped from the ceiling and plummeted into a large puddle of urine with a soft plop. 

The troll roared, charged into the room and began knocking urinals off the wall. 

Dany grabbed Sam’s arm and dragged him towards the door, but it was no good. Its head lumbered around searching for where the footsteps had come from and it’s mean little eyes spotted them. 

“Over here!” Robb yelled from behind the troll, chucking a chunk of broken ceramic at its head. 

It bellowed in pain and hoisted its club in the air trying the swat Robb. 

“No, back this way,” Dany shouted, trying to confuse the troll. 

Enraged, the troll brought its club down on the wooden cubicles, sending splinters flying everywhere. 

  
Jon had an idea. Unfortunately, it was a terrible one. He had taken a running jump and leapt onto the trolls back, wrapping his arms around the beast’s neck and clinging on for dear life. The troll let out a pained roar and began trying to shake him off. Any second, Dany thought, the troll was going to either send him flying or bash him with his club. 

Suddenly, there was a shaky, yet determined voice that rang clear around the toilets, “Winguardium Leviosa.” 

Sam had raised his wand and had it pointed straight at the troll’s club. The club rose lazily in the air before coming crashing down on the troll’s head. The creature swayed, dazed for a moment before it slumped forward and landed with a sickening thud on the floor. 

They scrambled to their feet and shaking badly and out of breath.

It was Sam who spoke first.

“I did it.” Sam panted, “I did magic.” 

“Yeah,” Jon exhaled, “We just need to stick a troll in the room with you every potions lesson.” 

They grinned sheepishly at each other and then burst into weak laughter.

“Is the troll dead?” Dany asked staring dubiously at it. 

“Nah,” Robb replied, “Just stunned, we had better get out of here before…”

A sudden slamming interrupted him and caused all four of them to look up. Professor Tyrell swept into the room, closely followed by Baelish, Varys and Royce. Varys and Baelish both glanced speculatively between the troll and the four filthy, dishevelled students. Royce merely glanced vacantly around the room. 

Professor Tyrell was looking directly at Dany, Jon and Robb. Her lips were white, and her eyebrows were arched in fury. “I do not know what in seven hells you were thinking,” She said coldly, “But you are extremely fortunate that you were not killed. Why were you not in your dormitories?”

Varys gave Dany and Jon a searching look and they looked away, staring resolutely at their feet. 

Then a quavering voice said, “Please Professor, they were looking for me.”

“And why did they need to search for you Mr Tarly.” Professor Tyrell inquired sharply. 

Dany could sense Jon and Robb freeze next to her, anticipating Sam’s next words. 

“I went looking for the troll Professor, I’ve read all about them and I thought that facing one might provide a more r…realistic learning experience.” Sam squeaked. 

Jon dropped his wand. Sam was lying for them, despite everything they had said earlier, he was lying to a teacher.

“If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead by now. They distracted it whilst I knocked it out with its own club. They didn’t have time to fetch anyone”

Dany, Robb and Jon desperately tried to look as though this wasn’t their first time hearing this story. 

Professor Tyrell didn’t look as though she bought the story for an instant but she rolled her eyes and said in a clipped voice, “Well then Mr Tarly, that was incredibly foolish of you. Five points will be taken from Aegon’s house for your foolhardiness. If you are not injured, then I firmly suggest that you make your way straight back to your common room. The feast, you will be pleased to know Mr Tarly, has been taken up there as well.” 

Sam flushed and lumbered out of the room. 

Professor Tyrell turned to Dany, Jon and Robb. 

“You are extremely fortunate, the three of you, that Mr Tarly seems to have a greater need for friendship than honesty. I do not believe his account for a moment. As no one has been hurt, I am inclined this time to hope that a near-death experience is punishment enough.” She paused and pursed her lips, “And as there aren’t many first-years who could survive a battle with a mountain troll, take five points each. Professor Selmy will be informed. Now, return straight to your common room before I change my mind.” 

They staggered out of the bathroom and did not stop until they were two floors up and well away from both the teachers and the stench of the troll. They finally collapsed, panting against a particularly ugly bust of Mushroom the fool. 

“We should have got more than 15 points,” Robb grunted. 

“Ten you mean,” Jon replied, “After the points that she took off Sam.”

“Good of him for not telling the truth about why he was in the bathroom in the first place.” Dany mused. 

“I think he really is that desperate to be friends with us.”

They had reached the portrait of Lady Barba. They glanced awkwardly at each other. 

“Beqes pungos,” They said and the portrait swung open. 

The common room was packed and noisy, Loras, Nymeria, Sarella and Tyene were sat holding court in one corner of the room. Loras was doing an unkind but incredibly accurate impression of Professor Royce. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Sam, however, stood alone by the door waiting for them, sweat running down his round, earnest face. There was a very embarrassed pause. Jon stuck out his hand and grasped Sam’s sweaty palm in his own.   
“Thanks,” Jon mumbled.  
Then, none of them looking at each other, they hurried off to get plates. 

  
But from that moment on, Sam Tarly became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them. 


	11. Quidditch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Quidditch match draws near but the suspicious actions of the Potions Master divert Dany's attention.

As they entered November, the weather became very cold. The rain lashed down and the waves smashed against the rocks sending freezing, grey salt spray flying around the bay. Every morning the ground was covered in a mixture of frost and frozen seaweed. Frey followed unfortunate students around the corridors cursing them for leaving a soggy trail on the carpets. Hodor could be seen from the Aegon common room dressed in his enormous mixed-fur coat sweeping a path from the school to the greenhouses with the largest broomstick Dany had ever seen. 

The Quidditch season had finally begun. On Saturday, Dany would be playing in her first Quidditch match after weeks of training. Aegon versus Maegor. If Aegon won, they would extend their first-place position over the other three houses even more. 

Loras had spent the majority of the last month loudly boasting about the talents of the Aegon Quidditch team to anyone in earshot. He had practically thrown a parade to inform the rest of the school that the Girl-who-lived was their new seeker. Two weeks before the game he had gone one step further and began sending the Maegor Quidditch team a magical moving photo of Dany catching the snitch every morning at breakfast. Dany had mixed feelings about Loras’ actions, on the one hand, it was deeply gratifying to have someone express such faith in her for the first time in her life but on the other hand, it had resulted in a large number of Maegor students approaching her to jeer. A week before the match, a group of fifth years had informed her that they would be running around underneath her holding a mattress. 

Making friends with Sam had proved to be the best decision that Dany, Jon and Robb had ever made. He knew where all the best textbooks in the Library were and was an expert at supportively proof-reading their work. 

“You don’t know how fantastic this is.” Robb had said earnestly one evening as Sam painstakingly pointed out all of his missing commas, “Normally, when I need some writing checked, Mum ropes Stannis into doing it and he lasts about ten minutes before dangling participials, whatever they are, give him a headache.” 

With Sam’s support, Dany was able to ensure that her homework was completed, despite the increase in Quidditch practices. Sam had also lent her a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and when they had completed their homework, they would read extracts from it aloud to each other. 

Dany had learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a foul in Quidditch and they had all been committed during the World Cup final in 174. Morgil Hastwyk (Reach) and Aemon Dracoeques (Crownlands) had been responsible for 450 fouls between them when they had proceeded to start a wizarding dual in mid-air which had progressed to attempting to punch the living daylights out of each other. Dany had also learned that seekers were normally the smallest and swiftest players on the pitch and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them. Deaths were extremely rare but referees had been known to vanish and reappear in the Red Waste months later. 

Sam’s confidence had massively increased since becoming their friend (and defeating a troll) and they could now see that behind the insecurity and awkwardness he was highly intelligent and extremely loyal. The day before Dany’s first Quidditch match the four of them were stood in the sunken courtyard during morning break; passing around Quidditch through the Ages and warming themselves on a small jar of flames that Jon had conjured. They were stood with their backs to it discussing whether the Wintertown Warriors stood any chance of not losing the championships for the sixtieth year running when Baelish crossed the yard. 

“He’s limping,” Sam whispered.

They hurriedly moved to cover the jar of flames, certain that they wouldn’t be allowed it. Unfortunately, their furtive movement and guilty expressions attracted Baelish’s attention like a moth to a flame and he limped over to them, a satisfied smirk stretched across his face. He did not appear to have seen the flames but that didn’t seem to hinder his mission to make their lives as miserable as humanly possible. 

“I wonder what the honourable Ned Stark would think if he could see his son and nephew treating a library book in such a distasteful manner. I think that you had better hand it to me.” 

He extended one exquisitely manicured hand and Jon mutely thrust Quidditch through the Ages towards him. 

“And I think.” Baelish continued softly, “That I shall take ten points from Aegon for good measure.” 

He limped away his richly embroidered silver cape sweeping behind him. 

“That’s n…not fair.” Sam stammered, “It doesn’t say anywhere in the rules that we’re not allowed to take books outside.”

“It’s Baelish.” Robb said viciously, “He doesn’t care what the rules actually are.”

“I wonder what’s wrong with his leg.” Jon mused.

“Don’t care.” Robb snarled, “But I hope that it’s really hurting him.” 

Robb had sent his parents an angry owl after their first potions lesson complaining about Baelish’s cruelty. To his horror, the letter that his mother had sent back had claimed that there was no possible way that ‘Petyr’ had actually meant to be cruel and that he was an old friend of her family. His father had told him that if he was polite and honourable then there would be no issues. 

The common room was packed that evening. Loras and Arianne were holding court in one corner of the room with a mob of older students who were roaring with laughter at Loras’ unkind (but incredibly accurate) impression of Professor Royce. Dany, Jon, Robb and Sam sank into armchairs next to the fire and sulked. Sam attempted to defuse the sour mood by offering to check through their History of Magic homework. They had agreed that just copying from Sam’s essays was utterly unhelpful, (No teacher in the world would ever believe that Robb would write three pages on Healer Munkun’s invention of purgative potions) but Sam checking them through allowed them to gather some more ideas and usually ensured that Dany didn’t write incredibly long run-on sentences. 

Dany glared at the fire and began idly sticking her hands in and out of the dancing flames. After a few moments, Robb snapped, “If you want the book back, go and ask Baelish. It’ll be better coming from you than any of us.”

Dany rose and pushed her way through the crowded common room and marched down to the staffroom. She hoped that if there were other teachers present that Baelish would be forced to give her the book back. She reached the staffroom door and knocked. No answer. She knocked again. Still no answer. Perhaps, she pondered, Baelish had left the book inside and she could quickly grab it. Cautiously, she pushed the staffroom door open and peered inside- a horrific sight swam before her eyes. 

Baelish and Frey were inside alone. Baelish was holding his robes above his knees and one of his legs was covered with bloody puncture marks and spectacularly purple bruising. Frey was handing him bandages that were coated with a slimy green potion. 

“Bloody Varys.” Baelish hissed, “The spider knew exactly what was behind that bloody door and he sent me in ahead of him. How are you supposed to keep your eyes on six heads at once?” 

Dany hovered in the doorway. Her eyes were frozen on Baelish’s mutilated leg. The door creaked. 

“Miss Targaryen,” Baelish spat, looking sharply up at her and dropping his robes quickly to the floor, “What in seven hells do you think that you are doing here?”

Dany steeled herself and hoped that she looked and sounded bolder than she felt, “I’d like my book back Professor.”

Baelish picked Quidditch through the Ages up from one of the coffee tables and slammed it into her chest. 

“There.” He said in a low, furious tone, “You have your precious book back. I trust Miss Targaryen that you are sensible enough to keep what you have heard this evening to yourself. If I hear the slightest whisper of this around school, I can assure you that your life will become increasingly…difficult. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” Dany replied, her heart thumping in her chest. 

Baelish dismissed her with an irritated wave and she hurtled out of the staff room and did not stop running until she was back in the common room. 

“How did you get it back?” Jon said incredulously as Dany sank, exhausted into her armchair and presented Sam with Quidditch Through the Ages. 

Glancing surreptitiously to ensure that no one (particularly Meera Reed) was able to hear her, she told them everything that had happened in the staff room. 

“Baelish was trying to get past the Direwolf on Halloween. I think that he let the troll in as well as a distraction.” Dany added. 

“Poor Grey Wind, Lady, Summer, Ghost, Nymeria and Shaggydog” Robb commented, “Imagine having to get the taste of Baelish out of your mouths.”   
But Sam’s eyes were wide. “I know that he isn’t very nice, but Professor Selmy trusts him, and he would know if Baelish was plotting to steal something that Selmy wanted safe.”

“You trust everyone far too easily Sam.” Jon said, “I wouldn’t put anything past Baelish. But we’re no closer to working out what the Direwolf is guarding than we were a month ago.” 

Dany slept incredibly badly that night, thoughts of Baelish’s leg, the direwolf and the curved package swamped her mind. When she reluctantly dragged herself out of bed, Jonelle’s whittering jabbing like knives in her ears. 

The matchday dawned bright and cold and there was an excited murmur that ran around the great hall. The scent of bacon and coffee engulfed the room and for once the smell made Dany feel queasy rather than hungry. 

“You need to eat some breakfast,” Sam said unhelpfully. 

“I’m not hungry,” Dany muttered

“Just have some toast then,” Sam replied, already adding a piece of toast to her plate and four sausages to his own. 

Dany just wanted to curl up in the middle of the great hall and either fall back asleep or cry. In less than an hour, the whistle would be blown, and the match would have started. 

“Dany, you’re best eating something. Seekers are always the first to be targeted by the other team.” Josmyn Peckledon said encouragingly.

“Thanks, Peck,” Dany said grimly, watching Sam stick six more sausages on his plate. 

By eleven o’clock, the entire school was gathered in the Quidditch stadium. Many had binoculars around their necks (Joffrey Lannister’s were solid gold) because whilst the seats were raised high in the air, it was still difficult to see precisely what was happening without them. 

Robb, Jon and Sam joined Peck, Andrey, Meera and Jonelle in the top row of the stands. They were all wrapped up in thick winter coats topped with scarlet scarfs and hats. Jonelle had somehow produced a large number of cauldron cakes and flagons of butterbeer and the first year Aegon students were eagerly anticipating their first Quidditch match. Jon had transfigured one of his bed-sheets into a banner which proudly read ‘Prepare for a Targaryen burn’. He had also charmed realistic looking flames to dance around the edges. 

In the locker room, Dany and the rest of the Aegon Quidditch team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Maegor would be playing in black).

Loras tossed his long, gorgeous curls over his shoulder and then pointedly cleared his throat.   
“Right then team,” He said arrogantly, “This is it.”

“The big one,” Sarella interjected 

“The one we’ve all been waiting for,” Tyene added.

“We know this speech off by heart, Loras.” Nymeria moaned, “Beric gave exactly the same sodding speech last year.” 

Loras glared at them, “Shut up you three, this is the best team that Aegon has had in years and we are going to win this match. Or else.” 

He tied his hair up in a ponytail, “Right it’s time. Good luck everyone. Not that we need it.” 

Dany followed Harrion and Torrhen out of the common room, desperately hoping that she wasn’t going to throw up the moment that she kicked off. She stepped onto the field to the sound of mingled cheers and boos. 

Madam Mormont was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field carrying an ancient and lethal-looking broomstick that looked more suited to warfare than flying. 

“I want a fair and honourable game.” She said sternly once both teams had gathered around her, “We stand on this pitch today with a shared love of Quidditch. Do not disappoint your houses by resorting to base cheating.” 

This seemed to be directed specifically at Maegor Captain Gregor Clegane who was three times the size of anyone else on the pitch and who permanently wore a dim and cruel expression. Dany looked anxiously around the pitch and saw her friend’s banner, they waved, and she smiled weakly back at them. 

“Mount your brooms.” Madam Mormont commanded. 

Dany climbed on to her Red Comet. When Madam Mormont blew her whistle, fifteen brooms rose into the air. The match had begun. 

“And the quaffle is immediately seized by Nymeria Sand of Aegon. What a fantastic player that girl is and extremely attractive too.”

“Marillion. You are supposed to be commentating the match not inadvisably attempting to woo Miss Sand. I would firmly suggest that you get on with it before Miss Sand decides to use you for target practice at the end of the match.” Professor Tyrell said sharply. 

“Sorry Professor.”   
Marillion, an arrogant and extremely handsome third year who was friends with Harrion and Torrhen was commentating the match. Professor Tyrell was sat next to him, an expression of bored disdain fixed on her face. 

“And she’s tearing up the pitch. She passes to her sister Tyene, don’t be fooled by the innocent exterior, she’s twice as lethal as anyone else on the pitch. Tyene passes back to Nymeria…no Maegor have intercepted and Albar Royce has the quaffle and he’s flying like…well a pig…up the pitch but he’s going to sc…Ha! Excellent move by Loras Tyrell, not that your head needs inflating anymore, Loras, and Aegon have the quaffle again. That’s Sarella Sand with the quaffle now, good dive around Royce, heading towards the goal and…Ouch! Bludger from Gregor Clegane catches the back of her head. At least this time it was the bludger rather than the beaters bat. Maegor regain the quaffle and it’s taken by Hyle Hunt who is speeding towards the goalposts, but he’s blocked by Harrion Karstark, nice one mate, and it’s Nymeria with the quaffle again. Her way is clear. Will Maegor be able to react in time? No, they’re not going to make it, keeper Belmore dives, misses…AEGON SCORE!”

A mass of scarlet erupted into cheers, contrasting with the groans of the opposing crowd of black. 

“Hodor! Hodor! 

Robb, Jon and Sam looked around to see Hodor enthusiastically pushing his way through the rows of spectators. Robb badgered a group of second years into bunching up so that Hodor could sit with them. The bench groaned under Hodor’s weight but the expression of pure joy on his face stopped anyone complaining. They were never entirely certain how much the gentle groundskeeper understood but he pointed at Dany and hodored questioningly. 

“There’s been no sign of the snitch yet,” Jon said glumly, “Dany’s had nothing to do but guard the Maegor seeker.” 

“At least she’s out of trouble,” Sam said, trying to sound optimistic. This comment was greeted with twin expressions of disbelief from Jon and Robb. Sam, in their opinion, was yet to grasp the point of Quidditch. 

High above them, Dany was ecstatic. She was soaring around the pitch, nominally keeping an eye out for the snitch. It didn’t seem to matter how many times she had done it, every time she climbed on her broomstick, she felt complete freedom. 

“Head in the game, Dany.” Loras bellowed, “There’s no point in keeping out of the way until you see the snitch if you’re not bothering to look for the bloody snitch.” 

Dany flew a series of loop-de-loops (mainly to irritate Justin Massey, the Maegor seeker) and then re-focused on the pitch, her eyes scouring everywhere for the snitch. She had thought that she had spotted it, five minutes into the match but it had turned out to be the reflection from Joffrey Lannister’s ostentatious binoculars. A bludger flew her way and she had to barrel roll to avoid it. Torrhen Karstark quickly followed it and smashed it towards Hyle Hunt instead. 

“Keep dodging Dany, you’ll be fine,” Torrhen shouted. 

“Maegor are back in possession. Chaser Edmund Ambrose in possession of the quaffle. He dodgers two bludgers, three Sand Sisters and Harrion Karstark and speeds towards the…was that the snitch?”

There was a moment of chaos where Edmund Ambrose dropped the quaffle straight into Nymeria Sand’s outstretched arms, he was so distracted by the small golden ball that had flitted underneath his nose. 

Dany saw it and pushed her broomstick into a sharp dive. This was the moment she had been waiting for. She was smaller and swifter than Massey and that elusive streak of gold was going to be hers. She heard Massey curse loudly behind her and grinned at his frustration. Around her, the Maegor chasers appeared to have given up play to watch the race for the snitch (this allowed Nymeria to score no less than twelve times in quick succession). Dany could see the snitch’s wings now, she could almost feel the familiar cold of the metal in her hand…

THUD! A mountain slammed into and she was sent careering off course. There were cries of outrage from the Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys spectators. Gregor Clegane had deliberately flown into her. As she regained control of her broom, Clegane gave her an ugly, threatening smile. 

“Foul!” Madam Mormont cried and ordered a free shot at goal for Aegon. In all the confusion, the snitch had vanished once more. 

In the stands, Hodor was hodoring with increasing indignation and Marillion had lost any pretence that he was unbiased. 

“So after that revolting display of cheating from the Maegor Captain, now seems like an excellent time to remind everyone that three members of the Maegor Quidditch Team were nearly expelled last year for harassing the Rhaenys Quidditch captain and another member is lucky that he can fly because it’s the only way that certain parts of his anatomy are ever going to rise up.” 

“Marillion, regardless of how you know that Mr Belmore is sexually inept, the rest of us do not need to know, particularly in the middle of a Quidditch match.” Professor Tyrell said firmly. 

“Sorry Professor,” Marillion replied, unapologetic, “So after the Maegor Captain nearly kills the Aegon seeker. Aegon have a penalty which Tyene takes without any trouble and from the look on her face, I would recommend that Gregor Clegane avoids eating in the Great Hall for the next few weeks.” 

Dany dodged yet another bludger which nearly succeeded in taking her head off. As she righted herself, she suddenly noticed that there was something seriously wrong with her broomstick. It was beginning to lurch violently from side to side. She gritted her teeth. You are not going to fall off, she told herself. Imagine that you're riding a dragon, you just need to tame it. But her broomstick was making a valiant attempt to throw her off and all chance of finding the snitch vanished as her demented broom bulleted around the pitch, rocketing from side to side, completely out of control. 

Marillion was continuing to commentate, “Maegor regains control of the quaffle and Belmore passes Tyne, gets a bludger to the face- not that it’ll make any difference. Maegor scores. Unlike Belmore with anyone, ever.”

Maegor were cheering, although the affronted Belmore looked as though he would have preferred to have thrown the quaffle in Marillion’s face. No one had noticed that Dany’s broom was behaving strangely. It was sending her around the pitch in an increasingly erratic manner. 

“Hodor!!” Hodor hodored urgently, pointing an enormous finger towards Dany so violently that he nearly knocked out a group of fourth years. 

There was a wave of fingers pointing at Dany and a ripple of anxious murmurs and shrieks as her broom bucked particularly violently and she was rolled upside down, barely hanging on by her knees. 

“I bet Clegane did something to her broom when he charged into her,” Peck said angrily. 

“He can’t have.” Jon whispered sombrely, “Nothing can interfere with a broomstick except powerful dark magic – no student is going to be able to perform a spell like that.”

“And Clegane can barely cast a hover charm,” Robb added scornfully. 

But Sam had not caught Robb’s comment, he had seized Meera Reed’s binoculars and was frantically scanning the centre block of spectators where the teachers were sat. He gasped and then shoved the binoculars directly into Jon’s nose.

“Ow! What?” 

“Baelish—look!” Sam squeaked. 

Jon grabbed the binoculars and stared straight and Baelish who was dressed for the occasion in black velvet robes trimmed with ermine. Baelish had his cat-like eyes fixed on Dany and he was muttering constantly under his breath. His sharp features were drawn and there was no sign of his usual mocking smile around his lips. 

“He’s jinxing the broom,” Jon said quietly and rose to his feet. 

“Where are you going?” Sam whimpered as Dany’s broom gave a particularly violent lurch. It was a miracle that she had remained in the air this long. Robb nodded resolutely at Jon as he strode past and forced the abandoned binoculars back into Sam’s pudgy hands, ignoring Meera’s protest. 

Dany’s legs were getting tired. She had been hung upside for the past five minutes and she didn’t know if she could hang on much longer. Every time she attempted to regain her seat, the broom would jerk especially violently and the crowd would gasp in horror. The Sand sisters had completely abandoned the quaffle and had attempted to pull Dany to safety on one of their own brooms but every time someone flew nearer (including Madam Mormont),   
her broom would soar ten foot higher, sending a clear message that Dany’s situation would only get worse if anyone tried to help her. Instead, her teammates flew underneath her, promising that they would catch her if she fell. Gregor Clegane, the Maegor Captain, had bellowed at his chasers to stop watching and score some bloody goals but Hyle Hunt had shown clear reluctance to score past the untended goalposts (He still did, five times). 

“Jon, where, in seven hells, are you?” Robb hissed. 

Jon had made his way over to the central stand and was now pushing his way through the row behind him. He sent Professor Royce tumbling into Professor Luwin without stopping to apologise. He knelt behind Baelish, his face contorting with disgust as he saw that the lining of Baelish’s black cloak was embroidered with silver mockingbirds. He pulled out his wand and, mentally promising never to tell his Aunt Catelyn what he was about to do, whispered “Incendio.” 

Baelish’s robes caught alight in an instant and Jon hurried away to a safe distance to watch. It took Baelish thirty seconds to realise that he was on fire. He let out a roar of fury and extinguished his robes in a heartbeat with a wave of his wand, leaving his once fine cloak a singed mess. The distraction was enough, high in the air, Dany had swung herself back onto her broom. 

Hodor hodored in relief and patted a still shaking Sam comfortingly on the back. 

Dany allowed herself thirty seconds to regain equilibrium after so long upside down before her eyes were scanning again for a flash of gold. There, ten feet above Ben Bushy’s head. She sped towards it, ignoring the excited hum of the crowd and Gregor Clegane swearing profusely at Justin Massey.   
Her fingers closed in on the comforting chill of the ball and she could feel it’s small metal wings batting against the palm of her hand. She closed her fist around it and held it aloft triumphantly, “The snitch is mine!” She pronounced.

Madam Mormont blew the whistle, and the game was over. Marillion gleefully informed the crowd that Aegon had won by two hundred and eighty points to sixty (Gregor Clegane had to be pulled off three of his own teammates for attempting to pummel them into the grass). Dany, Jon, Robb and Sam heard very little of this because Hodor had practically carried them back to his house and forced a large mug of tea and a homemade scone on each of them. 

“It was Baelish,” Jon said in a low voice, “Robb and Sam saw him as well. He was cursing your broomstick. He had his eyes fixed on you and he kept muttering. Uncle Ned told me that in order to curse an already enchanted object, particularly one as well warded as a broomstick, you have to keep constant visual and verbal focus on it.” 

Hodor hodored disbelievingly. They turned to look at him, stunned that he was disagreeing with them. 

“We’ve got evidence that he’s untrustworthy Hodor, it’s not just that he’s a foul git to us in potions lessons.” Robb explained, “We saw him on Halloween, he was trying to get past the direwolves on the third floor. They bit him. He’s trying to steal whatever they’re guarding.”

Hodor hodored excitedly and produced a large red photo album, he turned half a dozen pages before turning it to face them. There were two photos stuck on the left-hand page, one was a photo of a puppy with six heads which were licking and nipping at each other. 

“Are they yours?” Robb said excitedly, “I named them Grey Wind, Summer, Shaggydog, Nymeria, Lady and Ghost but if they’ve already got a name. I can call them that instead!” 

Hodor produced a collar from his pocket which had a little tag on it that read ‘Dog’. Robb’s face fell somewhat but he said encouragingly, “Can I go and see Dog again?” 

Dany completely ignored Robb’s pleading and was instead staring intently at the other photo on the page. It showed three men, Hodor was beaming broadly, his arms swallowing the other two men. One man was instantly recognisable, Professor Selmy was smiling austerely, his blue eyes fixed in judgement on the camera and his long white beard and hair reflecting the camera flash. The other man also possessed a white beard but little hair. He was broader than Selmy and was fixing the camera with a stern expression. There was a badly behaved raven perched on his shoulder which kept pecking the top of his head and a familiar curved object, contained in a black drawstring bag around his neck. 

“Hodor? Who is that standing next to Professor Selmy?” Dany asked turning the photo album back towards him.

Hodor hodored furiously.


	12. The House of the Undying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Feast of the Father Above has arrived, time for presents and more midnight-escapades.

The Feast Day of Our Father Above was drawing near. It had once been a day for dispensing judgement and making important decisions (as Stannis had lectured every year) but it had now faded into an excuse for spending time with family and giving material gifts rather than the gift of justice. One morning in mid-December, Dany awoke to find the entirety of King’s Landing covered in four feet of snow. The bay had frozen and the castle itself seemed reluctant to do anything productive. Doors opened more slowly and the staircases were increasingly directing students back towards their dormitories rather than to their lessons. The owls had gone on strike and the few incoming owls that did manage to fly through the winter storm had to be nursed back to health by Professor Haggon, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. The Sand sisters were given detention by Professor Tyrell for enchanting snowmen to follow an unusually panicked Professor Royce around school. 

Everyone was counting down the days until the Winter Holidays. Although the Aegon common room had a constantly roaring fire in the hearth, the corridors were damp and cold, and the classrooms were drafty. Most students seemed to be attending lessons fully wrapped in their winter cloaks, hats, scarves, and gloves. Only Baelish was sadistic enough to make them take their layers back off. His lessons were particularly dreaded because the dungeons were several degrees colder than the other classrooms anyway. They shivered as they prepared their potions and practically climbed into their cauldrons to keep warm. 

“I feel so sorry for all those students who have to stay at school for the holidays because no one wants them at home.” Joffrey Lannister said loudly one potions lesson, “Mother wrote to me just this morning to inform me that she has had my bedroom extended in order to accommodate all of the presents that she has bought me this year. I’m so fortunate to have such a loving, attentive mother.” 

Joffrey gave Dany and Jon a look of vicious satisfaction as he said this. Dany glared back at him but did not say anything. Joffrey had been especially vicious since Maegor lost the Quidditch match. The week after the match he had loftily informed Margery Tyrell at every opportunity that he was certain that if he had been playing seeker that they would have won the match. No one else seemed to be listening to him and he had quickly returned to taunting Dany and Jon for not having proper families. Dany would far rather be at King’s Landing for the holidays than stuck at Summerhall with Viserys who would inevitably be more bitter than ever. Professor Tyrell had gone around Aegon the week before and gathered the names of everyone who would be staying at King’s Landing for the holidays. Dany had signed up at once, as had Sam who had received two letters the week before. One was a blistering message from his father instructing him to stay away from the rest of the family as much as humanly possible. The other was a conciliatory letter from his mother, promising him that she was still trying to convince his father of the merits of having a wizard in the family but that she agreed that Sam was probably better staying at school. Robb and Jon had hoped to invite Dany and Sam to stay with them at Winterfell, but that plan had been scuppered by the planned visit to their Uncle Benjen in Skagos.

When the bell rang at the end of the lesson, they gloomily exited the classroom and promptly ran into a large fir tree that was blocking their way to the entrance hall. There were two enormous feet sticking out of the bottom and a rumble of irritated hodoring. 

“Get out of the way, you great oaf!” Joffrey snapped.

“Shut up Joffrey,” Robb muttered.

“Do you need any help Hodor?” Sam added helpfully

Hodor hodored dismissively but gave Sam a grin through the branches to say thank you for offering. 

“I suppose that you need to get the practice in Tarly when they inevitably realise that your not a proper wizard. Do you think that the oaf started off as a pathetic tub of lard as well?” Joffrey sneered. 

Sam went bright red. Robb launched himself at Joffrey and planted his fist firmly into the other boy’s pouty smirk. 

“Mr Stark.” 

Baelish had just emerged from his classroom to witness Joffrey wailing with blood running down his face. 

“Robb was provoked, Professor.” Meera Reed interjected, “Joffrey insulted Sam and Hodor.”

Baelish glanced contemptuously at the groundskeeper and then turned to Robb with his most malicious expression on his face, “Be that as it may, Mr Stark, fighting is still against school rules. I think that thirty points from Aegon would serve to remind you how we are meant to behave. Now, I believe that most of you will be returning home very soon, I suggest that you go and pack.”

Joffrey, Clegane and Trant pushed past them deliberately spraying pine needles in their faces. Robb waited until Baelish disappeared back into his classroom and then made a rude gesture at Joffrey’s back.

“All I want is the ability to magically permanently shut his mouth. Not kill him. Just shut his mouth.” Robb grumbled

“I hate them both - Joffrey and Baelish,” Jon said darkly. 

“Think about it this way.” Sam said encouragingly, “We’ve got one day left of term and then it’ll be the holidays.” 

“Joffrey insulted you.” Dany said indignantly, “You shouldn’t let him get away with it.” 

Sam shrugged and swallowed, his eyes watering. 

Hodor seemed to sense that they needed an interruption, and he hoisted the pine tree on to his back and then gestured to them to follow them into the great hall. The great hall had been transformed for the feast. There were mistletoe and holly hung from the roof and enchanted snow fell gently from the ceiling. There were already six enormous trees that Professor Tyrell and Professor Varys were decorating. 

“Put it behind the staff table.” Professor Tyrell said briskly, transfiguring the needles on one tree silver. 

Hodor slammed it down and shook the pine needles off himself. For a moment Dany stared around the great hall in awe, Viserys had never allowed decorations for the Feast of the Father and the sight of tinsel, baubles, floating candles, holly, mistletoe and the other decorations that were bedazzling the Great Hall was one of the most beautiful sights that she had ever seen. 

“We should probably go to the library,” Sam said awkwardly, looking a little too knowingly at Dany. 

Hodor hodored in confusion and gestured at the decorations. 

“We’re not doing any actual work.” Dany said slyly, “Ever since we saw the photo of that man carrying the object that we know Dog is guarding, we’ve been trying to work out who he is.”

Hodor hodored anxiously and glanced at Varys and Tyrell.

“We just want to know who he is.” Robb said soothingly, “And it’s not like you’ve told us who he is, have you?”   
Hodor still did not look convinced and it was with a concerned look that he hodored goodbye. 

They had indeed been spending every moment of free time they had in the library trying to find any trace of someone who knew Professor Selmy and might have something to do with an unknown curved object. They had read every reference to Professor Selmy in Great Wizards of Westeros and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. They had even scoured Defeating the Dark Arts and 1001 Greatest Duellers. There was no reference to Professor Selmy and the curved object anywhere. Sam had said optimistically (but unhelpfully) that there must be tens of thousands of books in the library and they couldn’t possibly expect to read the entire library in one go. 

Sam handed each of them a list of references and sent them to search the shelves. It took Dany all of ten minutes to realise that neither Grumble the Grumpy Goat nor Maester the Manky Mule would contain any reference to Professor Selmy or the mysterious man. Instead, Dany wandered towards the restricted section. She was adamant that any information about an object that was being guarded by a six-headed direwolf in a forbidden corridor was going to be concealed in a book in the restricted section. These were books containing references to powerful dark magic that were not officially taught at King’s Landing and only studied by older students studying advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts. They could only be accessed with express permission of a teacher and none of them were stupid enough to think that asking a teacher was a good idea. 

“What are you doing?” came a brittle voice.

Dany wheeled around to see the elderly and insipid librarian, Madam Stokeworth, wielding a feather duster at her. 

“Nothing,” Dany said quickly, it would not do for Madam Stokeworth to inform Professor Tyrell, or worse Baelish what they were doing. 

“Well, then you had best leave. This is a library, not a common room.” 

Dany reluctantly traipsed out the library and sat on a bench to wait for the others. She hoped that she had found something but after two weeks of little progress, she wasn’t optimistic. What they really needed, Dany thought, was an extended period to search without Madam Stokeworth breathing down their necks. 

Five minutes later, Jon, Robb and Sam joined her, each with a despondent expression. 

“Come on,” Jon muttered, “Let’s go to lunch.”

They wandered down to the Great Hall and piled their plates with jacket potatoes and cheese.

“We’ll keep searching through the holidays.” Sam said comfortingly, “And maybe you could ask your parents about it, Robb.” 

Robb glanced glumly at his lunch, “My Dad is the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, there’s no chance that he’ll give us information about anything dodgy.”

“And we’re already going to have to hear Aunt Catelyn waxing lyrically about Baelish without us telling her that we’re investigating him,” Jon added gloomily. 

Once the holidays began, Dany and Sam were enjoying themselves far too much to remember to search the library. They were very few of them left in Aegon Tower and, with Arianne’s permission, they built a blanket fort from the armchair cushions and roasted marshmallows and toast. Dany tried to encourage Sam to suggest creative ways to get Joffrey expelled but as the idea of getting expelled scared Sam more than almost anything else in the world, they switched to creative ways to prank Joffrey instead. Sam had a particularly spectacular idea involving Joffrey’s trunk, a bag of muggle sweets and a bottle of fizzy pop. 

Dany and Sam kept practising cyvasse with a set that Robb had left behind for them. Cyvasse was an incredibly complicated wizarding game that seemed to change completely every time you played and even Arianne, who considered herself a skilled player, could not completely explain the rules. Dany found the game overly complicated and didn’t entirely understand why she couldn’t just use her dragons for everything. However, Sam had taken to the game with a skill that he rarely showed anywhere else so she had gritted her teeth and played multiple games a day. The pieces were alive and had a nasty habit of shouting out unhelpful advice, particularly as you were getting closer to losing your king. 

On the eve of the Feast of the Father, Dany sank contentedly into her sofa cushion, ignoring Sam’s wheezy snores, eagerly anticipating the mountain of food awaiting her at dinner the next day. It did not occur to her at all to anticipate presents, after all, she was certain that Viserys was still in a foul mood and when Viserys had given her presents, they tended to be either broken or alcohol that was actually for him. 

When she woke early on the Feast of the Father, there was a large lump squashing her feet. She sat up in excitement. 

“Presents!” She exclaimed

Sam blinked groggily at her and smiled wanly at his own pile, which was bigger than Dany’s. Loras and Arianne had already vanished from the common room to spent time with their families. 

Dany picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in rough-spun cloth and scrawled across the tag attached was written in a neat italic scrawl, ‘To Daenerys, from Hodor’. She opened it. There was a small roughly carved wooden charm that nearly resembled a dragon, it had been fixed onto a leather thong. She quickly put it on, beaming at it. 

A second parcel, wrapped in a muggle newspaper, contained a slippery piece of white fabric and a note. 

I assumed that you wouldn’t be returning, you ungrateful whore. Hopefully, the enclosed will suit you. 

She examined the piece of fabric more closely and saw that it was nominally a dress although she wasn’t certain which parts of her body it was meant to cover. She resolved to burn it as soon as possible. 

Her next present was from Mr and Mrs Stark, it contained a red woollen sweater with a large red dragon on the front and a large box of homemade lemon cakes. There was an attached note from Robb and Jon.

Sorry about this but Mum’s got it into her head that you won’t be getting any presents. She makes us all sweaters. Hope you have a good day! 

Next to her, Sam was unwrapping his own sweater, which was emerald green with a large red toad on the front. From his parents (mother), he had received a large box of muggle chocolates and a stack of fantasy stories. He chose one at random and began to read. 

Dany turned back to the final present lying by her feet, it was square and heavy and wrapped with snow-white wrapping paper. She gingerly unwrapped it to reveal an ornate wooden box with a gilded silver clasp. She lifted the lid of the box to reveal a delicate silver coronet which had small slivers of ruby set into it. She placed it cautiously on her head. 

“Dany? You’re well…not quite invisible but not quite there…” Sam exclaimed.

Dany glanced down at her own hand and realised that whilst she logically knew that her hand was there but there seemed to be some form of magical shield re-directing her gaze. 

“There’s a note,” Sam said weakly, holding up a scrap of parchment that had fallen out of the wrapping paper. 

Dany took the coronet back off and placed it safely away in the box before she picked up the scrap of parchment and read the message written upon it in neat, looped handwriting. 

This was once the property of your mother, Rhaella Targaryen.   
She entrusted it with me many years ago.  
Now I pass it on to you, in the hope that it will guard you as well as it guarded her

There was no signature.   
Sam was peering at the coronet in interest, “I’ve never seen anything like this before. Do you know who sent it?”

“No,” Dany said quietly. Anything that her mother had left at Summerhall had long been broken or pawned by Viserys. This felt, for the first time in her life like her mother had really lived. 

Before Sam could ask any more questions, the portrait hole opened and Loras and Arianne staggered into the room. Dany hastily shoved the coronet underneath Viserys’ excuse for a dress before either of the older students could ask any questions. 

“Blessings of the season!” Loras bellowed, his face was uncharacteristically flushed, and he was wearing an ugly gold sweater with a large green flower on the front. On his head, he was wearing a headband with sparkly silver antlers on it. “Renly sent through butterbeer and mince pies. Did you two get sweaters from Mrs Stark too?”

“Yes,” Dany replied, wondering if Renly had actually sent through butterbeer. 

“You need to put them on.” Loras commanded, “I promised Renly that I’d wear mine to the feast, so you two need to as well.” 

“Does Mrs Stark send them every year?” Sam asked uncertainly. 

“This is my third year getting a Stark sweater.” Loras replied, “If you’re friends with an official or an unofficial Stark, you’re guaranteed to get one. They’re always ugly but they’re the warmest thing you’ll ever wear. Mine is always green and gold.”

Arianne forced Sam and Dany to tidy up the sweet wrappers and toast crumbs before she would allow them to even think about going to dinner. After Loras physically forced Sam to wear his Stark sweater, Dany quickly put her own on. 

When they made their way down to the Great Hall for the feast, Dany was amazed to see the feast that awaited them. The tables were practically groaning with dozens of turkeys, joints of beef and lamb, multiple varieties of potato, carrots, peas, chipolatas, swede and gravy. There was also for some strange reason dishes and dishes of dornish and pentoshi food that only the Martells seemed to be appreciating. Up at the high table, the teachers were in high spirits as well. Professor Selmy was wearing robes of bright yellow embroidered with black stars and was smiling politely as Professors Varys and Baelish traded jokes. 

After the main course, there was Wintercake and hot chocolate (although the teachers had Nahsa). By the time they had finished dessert, Professor Tyrell had won ten golden stags from Baelish and Varys in a game of riddles and Hodor had fallen asleep in a gravy boat.   
When she left the table, Dany’s robes felt uncomfortably tight and she just wanted to curl up in front of the fire and sleep off the immense amount she had just eaten. Instead, Arianne and Loras dragged all the students who had stayed at school outside to have a snowball fight. Dany found Margery Tyrell marginally more tolerable without Joffrey present but still distrusted the other girl. They returned to the common room with red and frozen fingers and faces and spent the rest of the day playing cyvasse and picking at the plates of leftovers that Professor Tyrell had left for them. 

By ten o’clock, Dany was sleepy and full and dragged herself and her presents back up the stairs to her cold and empty dormitory. It was only as she stared at Meera’s empty bed that something occurred to her. She had a magic crown that allowed her to hide in plain sight, her nosy roommate wouldn’t be back for another week and a mystery to solve. All trace of tiredness vanished, and she decided that sleep could wait for a few hours. 

She pulled her clothes back on and placed the coronet on her head, watching in amazement once more as her hand blended in with the bedpost. Grinning broadly, she crept out of the dormitory and, listening carefully just in case Arianne and Loras were still in the common room, tip-toed down the stairs. Fortunately, the common room was deserted and within minutes she was stood outside the portrait hole. She had to put one hand over her mouth to stop herself giggling as Lady Barba shrieked behind her. 

The corridors were pitch black as she weaved her way through school towards the library. Every shadow seemed to jump out at here and every creak was amplified ten times over. 

The library was deathly silent and even her own muffled footsteps echoed around the bookshelves. The Restricted Section was at the very back of the library, separated from the general collections by heavy iron chains. Gritting her teeth and praying that the noise would not wake the whole castle, she squeezed through the middle of the two chains and into the restricted section. 

“Lumos” She whispered, causing her wand tip to light up and illuminate the rows and rows of ancient and dusty tomes. Much to her annoyance, very few of the books even had titles on their spines and the ones who did read things like ‘How to Torture your Enemy Legally’ and ‘A Beginners Guide to Muggle Hunting’. There seemed to be an eerie chill in the air, and she could sense that the books themselves knew that she wasn’t supposed to be there. She ignored her growing realisation that sneaking into the library at midnight on her own was not a good idea and picked a promising looking book entitled ‘Magical Artifacts and their Murders’. She stowed it safely under her arm and crept back under the chains and back out of the library. 

She had just climbed the first set of stairs back up to Aegon Tower when there was an awful, familiar wheezy meow behind her. A pair of pale eyes emerged from behind a statue of Garth Greenhand. Emmon glared accusingly at her lit wand point and let out a great whining caterwaul. Dany panicked. She extinguished her wand tip and ran as fast as her feet would carry her, down corridors, through passageways losing all sense of where she was. She had just ducked behind a tapestry showing Maris the Maid tricking The Stone Giant out of his marriage proposal when she froze. 

“Students out of bed, Frey? I do hope that you have not dragged me out of bed without good cause.” Baelish said, his voice as silky as his nightgown. 

“Emmon spotted someone near the library, Professor,” Mr Frey snapped. 

“Well,” Baelish replied, “They can’t have wandered too far, you check the kitchens and the dungeons. I’ll search the towers.”

Dany held her breath and tiptoed backwards, walking straight into a door handle. She yanked the door open and, as quietly as she could, closed it behind her. 

They emerged into a long, grey stone corridor that was dimly lit by torches. The ceiling was much lower than anywhere else in the school. The door she had just staggered through was actually the mouth of an enormous, horrific, face that had been carved into the rock. She debated her options – go ahead and risk the unknown or turn back and risk Baelish or Frey finding her. She stumbled forwards, there was a strange blue mist that enveloped her and made her cough and sent a heat dancing throughout her entire body. She staggered onwards keeping one hand on the wall. She appeared to have entered a labyrinth of corridors with countless doors leading off. She picked the first door on the right, figuring that if she went through the same door every time, she should be able to find her way back out. 

The room that she stepped into was dark and cavernous but the moment that the door slammed behind her, a light appeared, seemingly out of nowhere and revealed a scene that caused her heart to stop in her chest. 

A woman with long silver hair was sat on an elegant black leather sofa. There was a small bawling bundle in her arms. Behind her, a younger woman with dark hair and eyes who reminded her of Nymeria was carrying a silver-haired toddler. On the floor was a dark-haired girl of four or five who was playing with a black kitten. 

“Balerion!” The girl chided the kitten as it batted at her fingers.

The silver-haired woman gave the girl an exasperated look, “Rhaenys, leave that poor cat alone and come and give Daenerys a hug.” 

Daenerys. The baby was her. Her mother, her cousins, her aunt were stood in front of her. She rushed towards them but the moment her fingers passed straight through her mother’s torso. She felt hot tears coursing down her face. They were not real. They were long gone and yet, she thought as Rhaenys planted a sloppy kiss on the infant Daenerys’ head, they were in front of her and more alive than she could ever remember them being. She sat with her back against the door. She couldn’t say how long she sat there watching the scene play and replay in front of her. It lasted a few minutes, Rhaenys playing with her kitten, Elia and Aegon would sing to each other, Rhaella embracing her new-born daughter. Her mother was older than she was in the photos that Viserys had hidden away in the attic, her beautiful face was lined, and she had an air of sadness. 

Eventually, Dany rose to her feet and glancing one last time at the ghostly figures, she pushed the door back open.

“I promise I’ll come back, Mum,” Dany whispered. 

She blindly traipsed back to the common room, ignoring Lady Barba’s renewed shrieks and sank into her bed. She placed the book she had taken from the restricted section on the floor under her bed, there would be time to think about the mysterious object and it’s owner another day, she had seen her family. Besides, it wasn’t as if Dog was going to let Baelish past any time soon, was it?

The next morning, Sam was less than impressed with her midnight excursion. 

“So, you walked into this strange room and you saw your family?” Sam asked incredulously. 

Dany scowled in annoyance, “I know that it wasn’t actually my family.” She said for the seventh time that morning, “They were ghosts but less transparent. I couldn’t touch them, but they were there in front of me.” 

Sam still looked disbelievingly at her so after lunch, when they were certain that Arianne and Loras were safely distracted by their families, she frogmarched him to the tapestry of Maris the Maid. The mouth shaped door was still there.

“This doesn’t prove anything,” Sam said, more uncertainly now. 

Dany pushed the door open and dragged Sam into the low-ceilinged corridor. The blue mist swallowed them, and Dany felt the familiar heat engulf her as she breathed it in. Sam’s pupils were heavily dilated, and he was sweating copiously but he allowed her to drag him through the labyrinth and through the first door on the right. 

Her family swam before her eyes once more. 

“There,” She said triumphantly, gesturing to the familiar image of Rhaenys and Balerion. 

Sam had gone stark white and he looked as though he would be sick. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t see your family, Dany.” He gasped, “I can see mine.”  
Dany’s heart sank into her stomach, “What?” 

Sam was stood breathless gazing unfocused at a spot just over Rhaella’s right shoulder. 

“My mother and my brother and sister. We’re sitting around the fireplace. Mother is singing. My father comes in. He says that he’s proud of me…” Sam broke down in great choking sobs and Dany awkwardly embraced him. 

“I’m sorry,” He spluttered, “You wanted to show me your family and I’m blubbing like a baby.” 

“Maybe it showed you a vision of the future?” Dany suggested, trying to be comforting. 

Sam sniffed, “Doubt it. I don’t remember Father ever having a kind word to say about me, even before Dickon was born.” 

Dickon was Sam’s younger brother who was athletic, brave and charismatic, everything in short that Sam was not. 

Sam cried all the way back to the common room and refused point-blank to visit the room again. Dany, in contrast, spent every moment that she could staring at the haunting vision of her family. 

“Don’t go, Dany.” Sam pleaded, the next day, “We could play cyvasse or see Hodor. We could even play Quidditch, just don’t go back, that room doesn’t feel right.” 

Dany had scowled but submitted to playing cyvasse, she could always go back to the room tonight when Sam was asleep. 

She feigned tiredness early that night and sat on her bed reading ‘Magical Artifacts and their Murders.’ It was utterly devoid of any useful information about the mysterious curved object but it had contained some interesting stories, including one about a magical necklace that was supposed to give the wearer eternal beauty. 

The Lost Pendant of R’hllor was a famed relic in the free cities of Essos. It was believed lost a thousand years ago after disappearing from the Great Temple of Lys. Before this, it had been seen around the throat of Helena of Tyrosh, whose beauty caused a twenty-year conflict between the city-states, and Kleos of Ghiscar, who used the necklace to ensnare two Triachs of Volantis. There are many myths surrounding its disappearance. One (disproved) account is that Aegon Targaryen, the founder of modern Westeros broke the pendant into pieces and set them into his crown. Another account is that is was stolen by one of the temple slaves and sold in return for passage to freedom. 

When she was certain that everyone else would have gone to sleep, she slipped out of bed, put her coronet on one more and hastily made her way back to the hidden room where her mother was waiting for her. 

The figures of Rhaella, Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon sprang into view the moment that the door closed behind her. She knew what they would say off by heart. 

“Come and give Daenerys a hug.” Dany and Rhaella said at the same time. 

“Back again, Daenerys?” questioned a calm, deep voice. 

Daenerys wheeled around and saw that Professor Selmy was sat in an armchair at the far end of the room. He gestured for her to sit opposite him. She hesitated and then darted around the incorporeal forms of her family and sank into the chair, feeling as though she was in trouble. 

“Sorry Sir, I didn’t see you.” She mumbled

“You were not expecting anyone to be able to.” He said, nodding at the coronet on her head, “Alas, the power of speech renders the power of invisibility completely redundant.” 

Flushing, she removed the coronet from her head and placed it on her lap, fiddling with the groves of the stones as she waited for Selmy to reprimand her. 

“So,” Selmy said, smiling gently, “You have discovered the ‘House of the Undying’.”

“Is that what this place is called Sir?” 

“Indeed,” Selmy replied, “It is a place of deep and ancient magic, full of power, knowledge and truth and yet perhaps one of the most desperate places in the world. Even in this, the first chamber, you have been tempted to remain in the grip of its enchanting visions forever.” 

“So, it shows what we want to see? To try and trap us in here?” 

Selmy nodded sombrely, “You see a glimpse of the family that you cannot remember and your friend, Sam, sees the family that he wishes that had.”

Dany swallowed, “How did you know?” 

“You are not the only person who is drawn to visions of what can never be, Daenerys.” Selmy said quietly, “I have witnessed all of your visits to this room but this must be the last Daenerys.” 

“Why?” She asked angrily. 

“For one, the entrance will be moved to a new place tomorrow, it should never have been discoverable by a student. Secondly, many great wizards and witches have wasted their lives fixated on visions of what was, what is and what may be. It is not wise to fixate what you see inside the House, Daenerys, it risks losing sight of the real world and what is truly important. Promise me, Daenerys, that you will not go looking for it.” Selmy said sternly. 

Dany felt numb. Three glorious days and now it was going to be taken back away from her, but she nodded miserably. 

“Thank you. If you do ever run across this room again Daenerys, please remember that the visions that the House of the Undying reveals are not to be trusted. Even those with a glimpse of truth are overcast with deception.” 

Dany smiled weakly at him and stood up, drifting past her family for what she dreaded was the last time. At the door, she turned back to Professor Selmy. 

“Professor Selmy? Can I ask you something?” 

Selmy looked consideringly at her, “You may.”

“What does the House show you?” 

Selmy paused for a moment and then smiled sadly, “I see myself running through fields of wheat underneath a sky filled with falling stars.” 

It was only when she was safely back in bed and staring out of the window at a tumult of falling snow, that it occurred to her that Professor Selmy may have been less than honest. But, she reasoned, it had been a very personal question.


End file.
